Oh the filling of one's youth is bare and vain.
To not allow solace and the use of a brain.
The heart lays scattered on the marble floor.
Knelt down I did do.
Whatever sorrow is there in the choices made
I cannot tell you. For it is a burden all my own.
How I hate it, yet it clings to me like adhesive to my mind.
Is their any sanctity upon it? I thought not.
So weep I will, correct I must and give I do.
Regrets, regrets, who can foil your plans to devour me.
What is done is done, yet answer I will one day.
Toss and turn in the throws of serene sleep.
Do they contradict. Yes, I am regret she screams
won't you entertain me? Of course not.
No time machine is within me nor around.
You regret, be left to fantasy.
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 7:36 AM UTC
Oh the filling of one's youth is bare and vain.
To not allow solace and the use of a brain.
The heart lays scattered on the marble floor.
Knelt down I did do.
Whatever sorrow is there in the choices made
I cannot tell you. For it is a burden all my own.
How I hate it, yet it clings to me like adhesive to my mind.
Is their any sanctity upon it? I thought not.
So weep I will, correct I must and give I do.
Regrets, regrets, who can foil your plans to devour me.
What is done is done, yet answer I will one day.
Toss and turn in the throws of serene sleep.
Do they contradict. Yes, I am regret she screams
won't you entertain me? Of course not.
No time machine is within me nor around.
You regret, be left to fantasy.