Really Worth This?
Crack!
The sound reverberates in my ears,
An echo in my mind.
I sway in my attempt to turn mid stride,
The impact merely emotional.
Merely?
I feel pain.
Not mine,
His.
A strangled cry of startled agony
Chokes from his throat.
He buckles.
Involuntary loss of control.
Oh my.
I run,
My feet pounding the earth
Like an over-zealous timpanist
Intent on anger.
Time is the ultimate unrenewable resource,
My mind screams,
You are quickly running out!
I near
He struggles to rise.
I pull my weapon
Ready to unleash my wrath on those pursuing
Those who'd done this.
"No."
His voice
Usually so strong
Self-confident
Is full of pain.
Anger that he can't control the agony
Irritation at the anger
Irritation at the irritation
A forever-rolling wheel.
My friend,
Is this the story of your life?
I look down,
My hand covers the wound
My eyes refuse to see
My heart refuses to acknowledge.
His life flows from him
Through the warm stickiness penetrating his shirt
And staining my fingers
Even as his rasp assures me
"I can walk."
And we try.
As his weight deadens,
His dependence on me grows.
It is apparent
He is losing his battle with the darkness inside.
He falls
And I go too.
My mind continues its tantrum,
Continues its fit.
Crack!
The beginning of pain
Possibly the end of a life.
I sit,
Cradling his head
Protecting his weakened body
With mine.
As we wait
To be claimed by our own
I wonder,
A clear streak amidst the raging storm of my mind,
Is it really worth this?
Crack!
The sound reverberates in my ears,
An echo in my mind.
I sway in my attempt to turn mid stride,
The impact merely emotional.
Merely?
I feel pain.
Not mine,
His.
A strangled cry of startled agony
Chokes from his throat.
He buckles.
Involuntary loss of control.
Oh my.
I run,
My feet pounding the earth
Like an over-zealous timpanist
Intent on anger.
Time is the ultimate unrenewable resource,
My mind screams,
You are quickly running out!
I near
He struggles to rise.
I pull my weapon
Ready to unleash my wrath on those pursuing
Those who'd done this.
"No."
His voice
Usually so strong
Self-confident
Is full of pain.
Anger that he can't control the agony
Irritation at the anger
Irritation at the irritation
A forever-rolling wheel.
My friend,
Is this the story of your life?
I look down,
My hand covers the wound
My eyes refuse to see
My heart refuses to acknowledge.
His life flows from him
Through the warm stickiness penetrating his shirt
And staining my fingers
Even as his rasp assures me
"I can walk."
And we try.
As his weight deadens,
His dependence on me grows.
It is apparent
He is losing his battle with the darkness inside.
He falls
And I go too.
My mind continues its tantrum,
Continues its fit.
Crack!
The beginning of pain
Possibly the end of a life.
I sit,
Cradling his head
Protecting his weakened body
With mine.
As we wait
To be claimed by our own
I wonder,
A clear streak amidst the raging storm of my mind,
Is it really worth this?