Sailing the guilty-seas
as regret trickles down my spine
and unloads
its over-thought-husky-murky-thoughts
upon my shoulders.
My daily rations are here:
shame, regret and guilt.
They’re brewing me to the bone;
into a rotten broth.
My thoughts pace
backwards and forwards
from guilt —
for remaining stagnant,
one of the past.
For being recycled
relentlessly-unbreakably
in this unhealthy cycle.
It is a cycle
of forget me nots;
such vile fetters.
But no dose can
reverse the abused time,
the stutters-and-mutters
the time that slipped my grips
and the sins
that swallowed my innocence whole.
For remorse, guilt and shame
only anchor us back
unless we were to morph them
to fuel and experience
to propel us forward.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 8:43 AM UTC
Sailing the guilty-seas
as regret trickles down my spine
and unloads
its over-thought-husky-murky-thoughts
upon my shoulders.
My daily rations are here:
shame, regret and guilt.
They’re brewing me to the bone;
into a rotten broth.
My thoughts pace
backwards and forwards
from guilt —
for remaining stagnant,
one of the past.
For being recycled
relentlessly-unbreakably
in this unhealthy cycle.
It is a cycle
of forget me nots;
such vile fetters.
But no dose can
reverse the abused time,
the stutters-and-mutters
the time that slipped my grips
and the sins
that swallowed my innocence whole.
For remorse, guilt and shame
only anchor us back
unless we were to morph them
to fuel and experience
to propel us forward.
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