“You’ve been away.”
“In a way…
I suppose I have been away.”
“Why did you delay
Your return to the fray?
Are you feeling okay?”
“Let’s just say,
That there are days
When I’d rather not stay,
And when it does not help to pray.
A cut today
Paired, with diminishing hope may
Leave me broken and mangled and slain.”
“Who cut you? The bastard will pay!
With blood and tears and pain,
His world will go red, his eyes will go grey.”
“The wound is my doing, the knife was mine,
I was away,
But now I am fine.”
“No, you are lying.
Your eyes and your voice are void of truth
They betray you as you spit falsehoods through tooth.
No my friend, you are not okay,
You are still very much away,
In a way.”
“In a way…”