His heart took a soliloquy step in the absolute wrong direction
For one last time… take it from me, he’s been pining and whining on up inside all along
To finally find a replica version of himself
And to ply it all too strong and ably aside the altogether brave man he once was
Incredibly so
Trying to delicately align what’s been entirely slipping – and then, together we skip an agonised beat, plain to see from the less hostile and terrifying outside looking in that he’s been oh so slowly, courageously, dying
However ferociously hard he may well have been trying
And then his soft and suddenly turned lukewarm hand falls to grasp mine
This lack of a presumed in-borne intricacy meets me right by the harrowing middle, I can hide it by twiddling these pumping, incredibly sweat-ridden thumbs although it’s of no real use, just a nasty and all too normal after-groove – something to be reckoned with either way
When you fail to say what you are forced to see it tends to become unbelievably physical
Push to shove, I mattered the most when he seemed to appear to need me the least
He sure could hide a thing or ten himself could our boy-wonder, even amidst this crazy plunder
His system is shot and we can only ever blame the lonesome spot where that gaping hole just bled
No escaping reality, what’s been unnaturally delivered to him right from the rather deceitful beginning
And all courtesy of his very own now equally ailing mother’s genes
I’m reeling and ready to turn this despair to that equally lonesome chair which sits and waits for me in my room – a tethered rope bejewelling it ’til sealing my long lost fate

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