Two struck me mortal blows;
         Funny that the second
         Follows the first by but
         Two seasons.

The same two called me dear.
         Strange that it always requires my power
         To get more than passing conversation.

Two were begged,
Pleaded for instruction.
          But how to be what they want
          And expect from "friend"
          Still lies beyond my comprehension.

The morning will put these words
To regrets,
But I burn now,
Under relentless failure
And the weight of a world I built for me.

Too late,
I think it is not to my liking.
I would I had the strength
To make me anew.