Paid Poem by John Yaws

I've often tried to figure out-
Just where it all went wrong.
Just where I lost my vision;
And how I lost my song.

I used to be a dreamer.
My life was fantasy;
Oh, what an awful wakening,
To see as others see.

There was a girl who loved me.
To her I was a knight.
The agony I put her through...
Some wrongs you cannot right.

The saddest thing of all, I guess:
Is gazing into eyes,
That once were bright with laughter,
And wide with each surprise.

But now they're vacant windows-
So sad, and dead, and cold.
Gone the vibrancy of youth,
They're empty now and old.

Sometimes I'd like to find the grave,
Where that sweet soul was laid.
And lay down there, myself, and die,
And mark the ledger 'Paid'!