mistakes come back to you like echoes in an empty cave. you have been trying since you started but does trying count? is trying good enough? every night it visits you, the pain that you have caused with your clumsy hands and venom-tongue. life careens onward, onward, with the moon hung in the sky and the sun the day after, but you walk backwards on this path so you can keep sight of what you did. the destruction still feels fresh. it still feels like fire, where you burned them. fire is supposed to be warm. it burned them, and it will swallow you. blow out the candle. let it rest. some things are better left behind in the dark.