Short Tales:Poems 2

Saviour Complex

I never stopped caring but I stopped preaching.
And I never stopped watching but I stopped guiding.
What is it about wanting to saving the people I know I have no business saving?
Clutching their hand desperately as we swing precariously on the tightrope, right on the edge of the precipice, not quite falling but knowing if we do it's death.
I drain my own energy. I just might be the death of myself.
A ball of anxiety in the least anxiety inducing moments.
This guilt which I have picked up from somewhere; discarded,long forgotten package of guilt belonging to its owner, has crawled its way into my pores and my very being and has made even closing my eyes at night so difficult.
This isn't burden for me to bear.
I walk away yet I'm drawn back to you, like a siren's call. The siren's lament.
I'm pretty sure I'd be unable to save myself.
I'm sure you would be too.