this bag I carry round with me
has a lining of guilt
a pocket of false hope, false dreams
oh and I forgot regret
regret for not trying or failing to get back up
for failure is the heaviest and of that I carry much
whilst wealth is light and love is nonexistent
past fights and arguments increase the weight rapidly
the ratio of bad to good is very inconsistent
this bag grows heavier as I carry on through my journey of life
I wish I could empty it and then it would be very light
but that can never happen until the day I die