Childhood ruins
shattered glass
these are the things you were faced with
when I tried to show you your past
I came with excitement, and pride
thinking to impress you, in fact
How naive
How sad, with a bitter taste
Maybe if I'd listened, instead of waving away
your old stories
I would've had a hint of a spark in my mind
that after that horrible decade
nothing beautiful could possibly be found
in that place
The awe on your face
I did not instantly read
as I pushed further through photos
hoping you would spot an old place
But then came old buildings
with empty panes
no doorways
surely, not even the spirits remained
And that's when I saw,
you were as sad
as the old, broken buildings
which you shouldn't have seen
And I'm sorry
For if I'd listened
truly, listened
there wouldn't be this new, unearthed thing
to wander through your rigged mind
Another wisp of tragedy
to slowly tear you apart
No more running
fast, with best friends
No more trouble,
twists, belonging to fate
No more cool nights
they all fade away
hidden in mountains ...
not the ones of your youth
but those guards, in your mind
standing tall with sanded ends
Now, yet another gust blows
Whistling through hollowed streets,
down cracked pavement
through dead trees
And for this one, I'm sorry
For I've done this to you.
Not them, directly
But,
painfully,
me.
