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.