Failure

Failure. A beast that burns blood cold.
It rears it's frozen head to glare.
From the inside, it stares out at the one you've failed.
It shows them your mistakes, but it hides your suffering from them.

Your guilt and sorrow, held tight in your stomach;
It flows and glides round and round.
You offer it an exit it refuses to follow.
The beast guides it from within.

Your stomach craves it solidarity once more;
It's lonliness in the dark.
It wants to hide from all these feeling of despair.
It craves peace once more to the point of pain.

Such is the crowing of failure.
The war of guilt and despair.
The battle of cold fury at incapability.
The scrap of failure in the eyes of the failed.

You try to alert them of how hard you tried;
You try to tell them how much you did for them;
But they cannot see, they do not believe.
They too feel this pain, this crowing of failure.

And so, you're left in the void of sorrow.
Repeating your failure to feed the beast.
Playing it with every detail in your mind's eye.
Despairing at where the right was wronged.

This pain... This crowing of failure. I beg your leave.