by Nick B.
To regret the past and be fearful of today
is the entity of sorrow that I've chosen to
convey.
I've sought comfort in nothing,
got nothing in return
leaving a void and a lesson to learn.
I have presented a mask for any given task,
and I've been known to take something before I
even ask.
And gazing into the mirror into my dark blue
eye's,
it does not take me long to realize
that they’re not a window to my soul, but a
storage for my lies.
I'm dying inside. A spiritual demise
I should have seen this coming, but it's really
no surprise.
I fear I've lost the yester me in the peelings
of the past,
but even then I knew that nothing good would
last.
I've now done everything I said I’d never
do—
always me, never you.
Learning slowly but falling fast,
I haven’t got the memo that you can't change
the past.
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