We’re outside in the fading cold
just wanting to light the candle.
Neither of us have a match,
the weights too much to handle.
Always pour the water out,
sometimes a splash too fast.
Running our core dry sometimes,
just thinking it won’t last.
Always thought these were sturdy grounds,
then it started to shake,
Turns out we were the foundation,
under too much weight.
Don’t know I’m sorry,
but I feel it every time.
When I see all the depletion,
Know part of the fault is mine.
Made of a sturdy sort,
a kind that couldn’t be bent,
but when the light hits just right,
I see we left some dents.
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