My past is so blotted & blotched,
Yet, I am living this moment.
Painful or not, it'd hardly matter,
Any luck with life, I miss daily,
I miss all my possibilities,
None have I achieved,
To time I put my ode,
Ever so desperately,
Dying will be easier.
Perhaps, I'd wait until my parents,
And then I shall embrace her,
Saying, “Sorry, I kept you longing,”
This time there is no guardian angel.
My HP Poem #1889