These bones are weak.
They are frail and wispy.
They are fractured,
snapping as they break.

I don't have a problem with placing the blame.
Because I know where it belongs.
My conscience whispers your name.
Should've known all along.

But I was blind.
Idealistic lies.
Made me believe that this would be made right.
I was wrong.

And now I'm left with weakness.
Cringing at the thought of you.
But my evasiveness,
it does no good.
And all I'm left with is weakness.

There's a shred of hope, but it's not real.
My optimistic mind protects me like invincible steel.
My bones will be strong again.
The marrow will satiate,
and I will be whole.