Pain

This is more poetry for my friend.

My ignorance is my undoing, when I know what not to do. Yet why have my mistakes gone two by two? Multiplying till I cannot keep track, so many that it makes my very sanity crack. How can someone lie, and yet feel it is what needs to be done. Why must one feel the need to run? No one does, yet I do. I only wish that this weren't true. I cannot forgive myself, only her. For she is the one that I would risk more than there ever were. Strength is not from one, but two. And not by how strong, but from who. I strain my eyes, and type each word. As if my own words are mine to be heard. My back is bent, from the sleep that is lost. But with friendship, this is the price and my pain is the cost. But I will pay it all, to know I have done right, and I am not a parasite in her sight. But why should I try, I repeat to myself. Why shouldn't I waste my time on something else? Because she is my time, and that I shall not waste. And everything else is just the paste. That holds up together, casting a shadow. I am even ashamed to admit it even now. But I have got a new low, that I need to show. She may feel bad, but so do I. And pain I feel, is always to real, but it is something I am forced to feel. For that is the price, and I will gladly pay. Just to know she is with my, just another day.