Will you still be here, when my fingers fall to pieces?

Broken glass beneath my toes, a reminder of my own fate.

Will you still listen, when the words mean nothing?

Or will you turn away, cast your heart in a direction it deserves?

Could I blame you, if I am not worthy?

If I undermine my own success for the sake of crying wolf,

At all the awful things I breed between my toes and arteries?

Am I a fool to aim my arrows at your warm, yet cautious heart?

Will you stay, as my lips fall mute, and sag to my knees?

As my back snaps dreadfully under my own lack of responsibility?

Will you blame me for all that is wrong in the world- your world?

Would I dare blame you, if I deserve it?

If I am the ruiner of good and plenty, the ravager of stability,

Destroyer of hope and harrower of dreams?

Will you speak through me, as if I no longer live to fear a thing?

Will you lift me? Breathe into me? Something? Anything!

To prove that you're still there? That there is some spark of belief,

To force into me the life you expect me to nourish for you?

Will you believe even after I have failed?