Sometimes I feel,

As we age,

As our edges wear ragged,

We sharpen and do more hurt,

Rather than dull the blade

And even put the sword away.

I am left wondering

If we ever learn

To choose kindness over cruelty,

Compassion over judgment,

Truth over lies.

But the record spins,

Round and round,

The broken, scratchy music

Replaying its melancholic melody.

History and the future,

They are super-imposed,

Mirrored in the moment

Another heart is shattered.

Even though it must pass away,

Forever friends seems a feeble lie

When the blade is still stuck

In my back, bleeding out

A little life at a time.

12/19/14, in response to mourning the loss of the longest friendship in my life