by Robert J. S. T. McCartney
All these scenes I’ve painted black,
To hide the pain, I’ve yet to have attack—
Me; nay, us, for the day will eventually come,
An assassin lying in waiting, where it shall strike from?
They say to “go in faith” and “take this tome,”
Tis often true, tragedy strikes close to home.
Where I’ve found myself on my back,
crippled from a fall; an attempt to snap—
My neck, my limbs, my life. . .broken,
The words I’ll never utter, never spoken.
As darkness comes and overwhelms what I see,
I know you’ll never understand who I really was. . .me.
“It’s better this way” I once thought,
To give up, that it’s all for naught.
However, I’ve learned that there is much more, to this thing called life.
And that is why I am so happy to have you as my wife.
Though, I fight, the right and wrong; with the light and dark,
I know you’ll be there to guide me along the way, on this journey we embark.
For I now see, I was selfish and wrong,
That alone, I was weak but together, we are strong.
The scenes will become clear, and on that day, we may weep,
For when one goes down to eternal sleep.
That’s alright because at least we will be there,
No one else, with nothing left to care.