not the truth

{eighth too late}

I thought you were broken,
there were cracks on your skin,
I shouted and called,
you didn't hear a thing.

From this angle you're falling,
yet I only watch,
Because I'm stuck,
frozen solid
in this glass box.

Your heart was not broken,
but my glass walls did shatter.
From my thumping and trying
and trying to put you back together.

You don't need my help;
why fall when you can fly?
Without my aid
you've almost reached the sky.

But with my walls down,
with hollers and shouts,
you turn to the floor
'Helping me out'.

I thought you needed help:
Maybe I needed yours?
Maybe I needed more?
Maybe...maybe something else...

I didn't save you.
You saved yourself,
by yourself,
without myself,

I came too late •

((but apart from the bit where you're not safe and I still haven't saved you and I don't know what to do and yet neither do you))