Watching someone fall is unexplainable,
It is torture beyond all measure.
Watching the strength of a strong man,
Fall short, not because of his muscles but his mind.
Unable to grasp at his soul, to hold,
Only able to grab his arm in a car,
Locking the doors just to make sure.
That hopelessness that lies along with it,
As you try and try yet, to fail and fail again.
I found my actions insufficient means, my words lofty,
My will was failing, slowly onto feigning.
It was that moment, I chose to choose,
What I felt was the lesser of two,
But was my own Benedict.
I was no Goodman Brown,
But neither was I Atticus,
That I’d hide rather than observe a frown.
It was my choice to leave,
It was my fault of recklessness,
But I felt it better,
I felt it to be just as well,
to not be there,
Than have to admit that I failed.