You. Do not blame the rushing of days
they are not responsible for this difference,
our parting of ways.
Remember it was not I who reneged on the pact we made –
to dance we demons,
no matter how afraid.
Don’t forget. I am problems: contusions of fate.
Branches of wood carved into figurines.
A lowly king ignoring its mate.
I sorrowfully sing to shoulder the blame,
whereas you my oldest and dearest friend,
Quit! Followed the path and played the game.
We have been parted ever since.
So you must forgive me if I am not the one who mourns,
your passing to a realm anew.
For you see I am also ensnared within the thorns.
And whilst yours will be a life filled with love and trust,
in the long years ahead.
I, that barefoot boy in the dust,
will forever dance alone instead.
Under the setting sun of a world you left behind.
What did he say?