We knew it had to happen.
You reap the fruits of what you sow.
Our only question was
how big would your crash be?
You made yourself a spectacle.
We saw the downhill path,
but only I felt sympathy.
I understand trajectories.
I have followed your track before.
Don't think I pity you.
Should I speak, or stay silent?
Touch your hand or pull away?
My kindness made you angry.
Words faltered on my lips.
These are my sins of omission.
Everything then made you angry.
Maybe it still does.
Why do you resent the world?
Has this crack-up eased your pain?
Who bandages your wounds?
Maybe you're still full of holes,
hot emotions that will not cool.
You cannot speak your needs
except in mad and futile gesture.
You push helping hands away.
And now the wreckage lies here
in one mad desperate heap.
The fires burn for all to see.
Is this enough to make you stop?
How far is far enough?
I wanted so much to warn you,
and tell you all I knew.
It would have made no difference.
You hated that I cared.
You didn't want the truth.
Please come back from the edge,
speak to those who do not judge.
Let patient persons love you.
Let someone give a damn.
Like me. Like you.
Instead of more destruction,
arise from these dark ruins.
And in tomorrow’s sunrise,
let us hear your Phoenix song.
This was written for
Three Word Wednesday.