Some Kind of Fortune
I have no words today which will do.
I am a broken young man with, perhaps, a single desire.
Throwing aside all my protection at last
I was riddled with bullets as my armor fell to the floor.
And to tell the truth, I really wasn't
sure that you even knew how to manage that kind of thing.
A part of me is thrilled for you and
that you stand defiant even as I bleed now.
For when I had set out upon my path
I was accutely aware of the risks I could encounter.
When the worst of them were actualized
I could only touch the wounds and manage a grim smile.
To live means you must do this and
to live means that I must let you and I must endure.
As the shock fades from situations
I watch my life pour from my veins as my skin pales.
How do you stop these kinds of things?
Are the plans we make this fragile to flow so quickly?
My skin yet retains some color
as I have somehow stopped the outpouring of my soul.
But my heart is a flutter with doubt,
and longs for the quick release of an open wound.
Ever determined to hold this inside,
this last piece of you, I will survive anything for it.
Since we are comfortable friends, Time,
hold your second hand as long as you like and leave me be.
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