I am yours, in a little while; in something like a mile.
Dedicated through, the bone and brittle bruise - belligerent.
Because I am like you, I'm always hurting too. I know
that we are things that are constantly collapsing.
I thought I came out fine, scathe-less and aligned,
but everybody says, "You're not the boy I always knew".
Despite it all I try. I try to clear my head; only to discover
that I can't maintain the steady, at my own behest.
And maybe when I'm ready, I'll listen to my friends
who all have said time and again that I was always there.
Until the fall, the summer calls, the spring is in my way.
And I'll be lonely, but kind of warm, as I address my faults.