Brandishing your art with your back turned away
You are the master craftsman of procuring disputes
Without even saying a word


And so the silence slices through the weak components
That pile up this body
Now lifeless it lays, its pieces disheveled
No more jest, no more play



Laughs once shared melted away
Demands yet met, tear us apart
And just as surely our anger separates us
 Our pride, with its iron grasp, holds us there



So much to say, but you are too far to hear
The many apologizes that swim through my head
To admit one is wrong
Is like catching a moonbeam
But yet, I don’t think anything is impossible



To put it quite simply…




…I’m sorry

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