The past’s mistakes do not go on gently,
They bask in desire and superstition.
So i mourn old memories turned deadly,
That still compound now with repetition.

My Sins are never truly repented.
They surface each day, with new renditions;
Only to be instantly lamented,
But regret submits to repetition.

Lust and greed and especially vanity,
All fated for contentment’s demolition,
All that I’ve loved is lost so damnably,
Through the wickedness of repetition.

All these words are merely an admission,
For action—still follows repetition.