Envious thief, he bleeds his cries,
for, ever after, his echoes reverberate in our walls.
Our affection's sealed with embraces,
yet implicit love falls short of grateful reception.
Razor blades and pills we discreetly place;
warnings cushion unimaginable loopholes.
But his tunnel vision focuses on himself
as he pleads for gifts to his mistake.
Addicted to us, again we return to his naïveté;
self-sacrifice, our indulgence for his depression.
And still, bedside comforts end no tears,
for eternity is not enough.
