Analysis of I'm sorry

Trying to say Im sorry
Letter from a mad man

The words do not fly out. The right thing to say does not just roll off the tounge.
The emotions flutter inside of me, hard to identify. Hard to make sense of.
My chest rises and falls with a kind of tremble. It is not something simple. Not something,
easy to articulate. So, no, I don't know what to say   There is nothing easy about
what I am trying to do.  Nothing smooth and natural about it. It is Something that takes practice and time,
I wouild imagine. Something that my damaged mind lights up with
limitation and hesitation.   My fingers freeze over the silver keyboard. they will probably say my
words are cheezy. Too thought out, too contemplated.  Too, trying too hard.  

There that goes again, that pain in my chest.  A pain that has become me.  Taking my well of knowledge and
throwing a moss covered cinder block in. I listen for the splash and all I hear is the thug of dirt and mud.
And there he goes again, trying too hard.  There always with me, my companions. My cryers, my manifestation of mistakes.
Things that I would and could take back then circle back around to why I am writing this letter.  To say, I'm sorry. To
Say that if my pain has caused you pain that I know, sorry doesn't cut it.  It probably makes things worse.  

So in this, this thresher, this mix of disowned emotion, I write these words. To say that if sorry does not suffice maybe
these words will.  Maybe in the digging that it took to write this somehow you can see my contrition.  I well up in the
throat now. A tear that starts in the esophagus.  A pain that knows nothing of gravity but travels upward, quite unnaturally.

Tears fought off by my gender. Just know that I am sorry. That I can not find the right words to say it.  That time does not heal
all wounds only efforts do.  

So I make great efforts to say I am sorry.  That the "I am" in that sentence is everlasting and all knowing.  Knowing too much of
my sin. Knowing all of the mysterous of the universe, know just how to make my jaw clench and throat swell in sadness. Then
release, a release I only wish for but know little of. A release I hope you know and know well.  

So please, as my father taught me to say, forgive me.  Forgive this damaged child, this self abusive man, this half broken writer
and in this I will do the same.  I will do what I desire for you to do with me, to look a little deeper.  Look past my sin, to look into my
mind and find yourself.  A human being, a living breathing thing, that desires only one thing. Something that can't be
summed up in "I'm sorry" Something, that yes, is a bit self serving.  Something that would make me in the stars, the libras
in the skies smile in content.  Remember me not according to my folly but remember me according to your love.

So, yes, I am sorry.