I see a spirit so independent and true,Fighting within fortunes so similar
A life path through the challenging bush,
But dissimilar too, the essence of our awkward roots,
a legacy that we inhabit,
yet to given
To be seen to take fruit.
This wandering mind,
anguishing in hells your imagination could barely reside in,
Your powerful strides strapped to an ever-questioning mind, dissatisfied by seemingly having nothing good to find.
Our certainties gone, withered and lost, the day we forsook thankfulness, gave up the greatest gift given by God, this here our deep love.
That now flows ever-present, causing doubtfulness and depression,
As we work, in wakefulness without the others presence.
Incapable to come to terms with our shattered brittle spirits.
To you your road and me my own.
One should have learned by now,
There can never be a companion on this sickeningly septic journey, in which even an 11-year old me has been,
But whose horrors you have neither heard of nor seen.
Goodbye my love. Goodbye my dream.
As I always said you must leave me.