My Dearest Armistead, Is life a perpetual cycle? Because everything seems To be happening repeatedly. I found myself, again, Engaging in 'that' conversation. The conversation where I hold another person's life. The conversation where There is only one chance To do the right thing. I can only hope I made the proper choice, But I dread that with each cycle I am a step closer To getting it wrong. It seems inevitable that I will have blood on my hands From being unable To do enough Or get there quickly. Every time I have 'that' conversation; I am left empty, Wishing I could have spoken to him. Wishing that I could have soothed him. Wishing that he was here, And it was all a horrid nightmare. Why can't someone else Accept the burden for a while? Why does it have to be me? Yours, Armistead.