failed,
all them words, yet
fight
still seems the idea.
emptier,
now, and forever, I guess.
not for lack of desire otherwise,
just
ignorance, or
cowardice,
or
not seeing the unseen that was there
all
along.
weakness when wanted strong,
lost
even a lighthouse, in this
eclipsing mist of
some sister to
sorrow, all
malice, and unkind.
still,
intertwined with all the woe, 
proceedings, regular. grief 
no longer superseding, or seeming, only
aside,
some permanent shadow, a
fixture
of this existence abiding by the 
onward,
stalwart, and non-standard,
clasped
the mortal lanyard,
embarrassed 
by inability, and
filthy,
drenched in rank regret
unfit,
perhaps for lack of trying, or
other efforts,
egregious,
or some ego comprised morality, all
dense, and numb
instead.