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I wish I hadn't made those friends That my mother didn't want me to (As if their mothers didn't warn them About the likes of myself). I would have stayed on the path To a doctor's in psychology, Not ending up in construction;   I'd be neither broke nor bleeding. I wish I had been convinced as young That brushing your teeth properly Will save you hours of working Your hands to shreds to pay the dentist. I wish I'd never gotten any of these Tattoos. That "home made scarification Is cool only before the infection," Was as given to me at thirteen as now. I wish I'd fallen so in love with my First girlfriend that we'd be married With children+dog today, knowing only The love of each other's. I wish I hated whisky. That my Fuse got longer with every stout   Consumed. And with that, the certainty That I never could dance. Jig. Ever. I wish it was all different. I'd have nothing to sulk about alone In a double bed. No foot-in-mouth Memories to still bring me shame, No failures. No mistakes. No painful blows or signs of poor Judgement. Nothing to fret over. No blame to give myself. Nothing to cry until I shiver about. No caring hands to have to live without. No lost love's name to whisper, Moan. Shout.            Nothing at all to write about.
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Neither Broke nor Bleeding
I wish I hadn't made those friends That my mother didn't want me to (As if their mothers didn't warn them About the likes of myself). I would have stayed on the path To a doctor's in psychology, Not ending up in construction;   I'd be neither broke nor bleeding. I wish I had been convinced as young That brushing your teeth properly Will save you hours of working Your hands to shreds to pay the dentist. I wish I'd never gotten any of these Tattoos. That "home made scarification Is cool only before the infection," Was as given to me at thirteen as now. I wish I'd fallen so in love with my First girlfriend that we'd be married With children+dog today, knowing only The love of each other's. I wish I hated whisky. That my Fuse got longer with every stout   Consumed. And with that, the certainty That I never could dance. Jig. Ever. I wish it was all different. I'd have nothing to sulk about alone In a double bed. No foot-in-mouth Memories to still bring me shame, No failures. No mistakes. No painful blows or signs of poor Judgement. Nothing to fret over. No blame to give myself. Nothing to cry until I shiver about. No caring hands to have to live without. No lost love's name to whisper, Moan. Shout.            Nothing at all to write about.
#life#regret#fate#irony
sgholter
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sgholter
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
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