30 October 2012
Sometimes I like to pretend I remember who you are. That I recognise the dead, shaggy brunette hair, those sad, exhausted hazel eyes. Sometimes, I realise that I am just worrying about you. You’ll say that it’s okay, and maybe it is, but really....
Are you okay?
You always seem happy; you’re acting happy....but, is that really who you are?
Let us face this...
You are just a broken marionette.
Inevitably, I’ve watched you fall; I’ve seen you cry; I’ve heard your screams at night.
You’ve lost that beautiful person you once could have been.
It feels like i never really got to know you at all;
When did you become a depressed, sleep deprived adolescent who craves attention so much that he has dropped to whoredom?
Were you always that way? Were you always like this?
I look in the mirror, and there you are again, staring blank at the ‘wall’ you call me.
Wake up, and we can repeat this all over again, because i know you’ll never hear me calling. I know you’ll never realise that i was always there, waiting. I always wanted to help.
Now you’re lost and you don’t want to be found.
All i can say is i’m sorry. I wasn’t there to help you when you needed me most.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be the best i could be.