The Choice

sweet scout It was I who chose to do it.

I, who dug your muddy grave in the freezing snow and rain, before the deed was even done.

It was I who wrapped you in the blanket and took you on that fateful drive.

I, who delivered you to your death.

It was I, who chose your destiny as you sat patiently in my arms…trusting me as always…without question or a doubt.

I, you tried to console with your wet kisses as I wept.

And I who let them fill you with the liquid made to soothe you and painlessly send you into everlasting slumber.

But that’s not how it really went was it?

You know and so do I.

Somehow they botched it all and our eyes met as you struggled…

And I, the one you loved so fiercely, for oh so very long…

gave them permission to hurt you in the worst way, at the very end.

Later, I was told I’d done you a favor. My choice was right and just…the humane thing to do.

They said I did it out of love to end your suffering.

But, did I?

Really?

I’m not so sure.

I am the one who suffers now.

It is I, who avoids the windows, afraid to look out to the edge of the lawn where the magnificent Magnolia stands guard over you…buried in a rain soaked hole, frozen forever now in your little box, all alone out there in the January cold.

I’m told your pain is over and you are now at peace.

But if that’s true, then why do I weep? And where is the peace for me? Why does my head not comfort my heart?

And why, oh why won’t the memory of life’s light fading from your eyes cease to torture me every single day and night?

It was I who made the choice.

I, who must live with that truth.

And I, who’s sentenced to never forget, that in the end, I am the one who betrayed you.

Please forgive me, my sweet, devoted friend.

I beg and plead, with every fiber of my being.

Forgive me, I ask and will do so, It was I who chose to do it.

I, who dug the grave.

It was I who wrapped you in the blanket and took you on that fateful drive.

I, who delivered you to your death.

It was I, who chose your destiny as you sat patiently in my arms…trusting me as always…without question or a doubt.

I, you tried to console with your wet kisses as I wept.

And I who let them fill you with the liquid that would soothe you and painlessly send you into everlasting slumber.

But that’s not how it really went was it?

You know and so do I.

Somehow they botched it all and our eyes met as you struggled…

And I, the one you loved so fiercely, for oh so very long…

let them hurt you in the worst way, at the very end.

Later, I was told I’d done you a favor. It was right and just. The humane thing to do. They said I did it out of love. To end your suffering.

But, did I?

Really?

I’m not so sure.

I am the one who suffers now.

It is I, who avoids the windows, afraid to look out to the edge of the lawn where the magnificent Magnolia stands guard over you…buried in a rain soaked hole, frozen forever now in your little box, all alone out there in the January cold.

I’m told your pain is over and you are now at peace.

But if that’s true, then why do I weep? And where is the peace for me? Why does my head not comfort my heart?

And why, oh why won’t the memory of life’s light fading from your eyes cease to torture me every single day and night?

It was I who made the choice.

I, who must live with that truth.

And I, whose sentence is to never forget my betrayal of you.

Please forgive me, my sweet, devoted friend.

I beg of you.

Forgive me, I ask with every fiber of my being…

And I’ll ask it for all eternity.

Forgive me, please. Forgive me. forever.

Forgive me, please.

Forgive me.

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