I was the foolish one.
I wore my soft heart on my sleeve.
I was the reckless one.
For now I will never heal.
You were the guileless one.
Your heart was of glass and stone.
You tore through my shield with the precision of surgery.
My house; I can never call home.
But we all make mistakes in our youth.
We bandage with mortar and lies.
We pick up the living as best as we can.
The others; just allow them to die.
So let’s not worry about all the carnage.
The wounds they will heal or just fester.
The sharp words will cut and bring on the blood.
The finger raised high, just a gesture.