Victims of Misguided Me

I cannot move.
I cannot breathe.
God's daughter
Wraps her arms round me.
While I wish
To be let go,
Sharpest rocks
await below.
Choicest Purity
desires one poet
Hold no longer
to his Know.
Wither shall
my Know grow,
When naught is required?
Where naught will show...
All Purity had,
She has now.
For her ever
Heav'n allows.
"You are needed,"
says Purity,
As her arms still
Entrap me.
Never would I ever
Wish to be made free
Save that my peace
Below I see.
Needed?
They each must heal!
I disconnected them.
They cannot feel.
This tragedy I engendered
By my clumsiness
rendered,
God's every hate-filled
Child
Have I made
More wounded, wild.
What healing can I bestow
What help can I show
When I have hurt
So Many below?
"You are needed,"
Purity says again.
"Do what hurts most
And heal those
Who will heal."
Wretched determination
Builds inside.
I will do
What can be done to heal
Those who cannot feel.
Determined Wretchedness
Built.
The dam bursts.
"You were hurt!"
I bellow.
"I made you worse.
You were injured.
I made you cursed.
You needed a friend
I had your trust.
I gave you friend,
Comfort, confidant.
I took all I had won,
Made it come undone.
With stupid steps of self deceit, 
I walked up to you,
Knelt at your feet,
Pretending I knew Love,
And shattered all Hope.
Victims of misguided me,
I hurt you.
Please forgive me!"

Adam Scott Campbell