My best friend is hurt

And there’s nothing that I can do.

Nothing to help,

I am not much comfort,

Not to take away the pain.

 

My best friend is wounded.

He stands on a landmine,

It’s time to lose control – it must be disarmed.

But I don’t think there’s anything I can do.

Nothing.

 

He’s nearly ready to step off,

There’s no telling how much damage,

The amount of damage that will come to him

And to those around him.

He is wounded – and I cannot heal him.

 

Maybe he doesn’t need my help,

May be he doesn’t want it.

It wouldn’t be much use anyway.

He stands alone in the cold, dark field.

Abandoned by hope.

 

Maybe,

Just maybe,

He needs to explode.

It’s coming,

We all get tired of fighting.

 

He’s been so patient,

People have beat him down,

Life is beating him down.

He deserves better.

So much better.

 

But there he stands on a landmine.

My tears will not – cannot – fall,

I must hold in my pain,

He has to know I’ll be strong for him,

Strong enough to pick him up – if he wants/needs me to.

 

My best friend is hurt,

And I am hurt.

There’s nothing I can say or do.

I wish I was the one on the landmine,

And him finally happy.

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