Sticks and Stones

"Take it back!" he said,
I can't because you're dead.
The knife is set and plunged
Your life is lived and done.

I'm sorry for the blade
That in your heart is laid.
I'm sorry for the scar
That's made you who you are.

"Take it back!" he cried
Just before he died.
I pulled the handle out
Before he gave a shout.

"Oh, God! I'm done! I'm through!"
"What did I do to you?"
"That through my skin you've sliced
"And through my life you've diced?"

Regret, oh true, I felt
This final blow I'd dealt.
So I shed a tear an cried
A moment before he died.

Forgive me, sir, I pled,
That I have made you dead.
But power I do lack
To take this death blow back.

No answer he did give,
For he had ceased to live.
And though the knife was drawn,
The poor man's breath was gone.

Regret, alas, regret.
Eternal, unpaid debt.
The past is only done.
The woeful present marches on.