Hard, to say I'm sorry when they are gone.
They can't hear you their soul has moved on.
And your guilt has come along.
And you crying out your regrets.

Mabe, the wickedness of your mouth.
Or the many manipulations that you played to get your way.
Still, it hard to say I'm sorry when they gone.

The only ones hearing you is those that's alive.
Those that saw you, heard you when you cried.

Sometimes, loss makes you check your heart.
Which many of us should have from the start.
Not when they now assigned to another place.

liquid sky swimming
along ocean floors flying
Dr. Seuss living