Steam rose like a ghost

Into a cold summer night

A pair of eyes, pitch black

Stared back

Silently asking, "Why?"

And Hope's legs flailed but failed

To reach thick blanket woods every time

A pair of lights, pitch white

Peaked over the horizon

I should've called someone with a gun

I should've called someone with a gun

I should've called someone

I should've called

I should've called someone with a gun

I should've called someone with a gun

I should've called someone

I should've called

Was there a chance it could have lived on?

Was there a chance it could have lived on?

Was there a chance it could have?

Was there a chance?

There was so much more I could have done

There was so much more I could have done

There was so much more I could

There was so much

Is it the norm to suffer before rest?

Can't imagine if I were staring at death

For that long

Scared stiff until the moment just before

It overcomes

We all do our best not to think about it

Guilt manifests in branded memories

That stay with me until I'm gone