I looked at you
Through the suddenly clear windows
in the middle of your canvased face.
I saw broken things,
shattered pieces of the you
that you'd once created.
Some of your messes were painted
in unfamiliar fingerprints.
But some were undoubtedly an inside job.
And for the first time,
I quietly put all of my tools away,
Because I have finally learned
that I cannot fix a man who is destroying himself.