Like a light that could not remain forever, the sight it provided to me slowly dims & fades before I'm greeted by the darkness. But not like a friend, more like a solider returning home from a lost war - no injuries are too physical, the external wounds heal quickest. Like a solider carrying his invisible, wounded team-mate, carrying him not home, not to the cemetery either, but back to the enemy's front gate. Screaming & crying in the bloody anger as he threw the dead body on the wet cobblestone.

"Look what you've done!"
The solider screams.
"Look what you've done! I cannot bring him home!"

And so the darkness screams, cries and stares me down like that solider. I have fought no physical war, but I have seen them, wrote about them, been the cause for them. I see the war inside you, you're struggling - you don't want to fight but you'll die if you do nothing.

Talk,
Talk like they themselves are going insane from talking to nothing but a glass window.

An army of glass children, they watch the crying solider, to them, their tears are blood.

But like a light that could not remain forever, I'm greeted by the darkness, and not like a friend.

Curtains wrap around these glass children like fabric snakes. The solider cannot bring you home, you were unfaithful to that war - we lost because you did nothing.