sorry my friend, it must end

the caravan rolls past, night by night,
even with the thunderstorms hiding his sights.
feeling a little gravity talking to him,
cold showers seep through his veins.
drip out onto the side walk, all his pain,
so much he forgets the endless aim.
call out in vain, just like yesterday,
on and on, he will light his path...
for the caravan must move on.

i dont do full sentences.
i dont do full paragraphs.
its just, unsightly.
who really bothers to read across?
more often than not, people just read downwards.
of course, thats assuming they read at all.
its always the case isnt it?
its so easy to say, oh this is what i want.
its easy to even say this is what i need.
but, life isnt that easy. it cant be.
i figure, to be able to want what you need,
it necessarily implies that you have choices.
to want what you want,
it means you have chosen, yet you may not have that choice.
its hard isnt it?
i mean, we can say sorry a million times,
but sorry dont make dead people come back to life.
sorry isnt going to change the past.
sorry isnt going to make the future any easier to bear.
sorry, sorry is but a filler.
sorry is when we have nothing else.
when we dont know what to say.
so, i'm sorry.
i always am.