Regret

By
More by this author
Regret is a thorn,
One that is wedged,
So firmly in to your side,
That relief is unobtainable,
If you try to remove it the swelling only worsens,
But the simply forget is impossible, unimaginable,
It digs deeper into your flesh with every quieted breathe,
An infection festering as time goes on,
No escape, no treatment,
Only the regret to claim our soul,
All the if only, if onlys in the world,
Running through your head,
Only to be silenced with the reality of to late.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback