The clock blinks cruelly, its glow so stark,
Another sleepless night in the aching dark,
I tried to escape, to drown the weight,
But found myself at regret’s cold gate.
The pressure pressed hard, a relentless tide,
I sought relief where shadows hide,
But the choices I made were fleeting, unwise,
Now I face their echoes with tear-stung eyes.
How could I falter? How could I fall?
I swore to stand stronger, to conquer it all,
Yet here I lie, with shame my chain,
A heart heavy with self-made pain.
Idiot, I whisper, my voice low and raw,
As if naming my flaws could change what I saw,
But the past, unyielding, cannot be unwritten,
Its lessons harsh, its truths unforgiven.
Still, beneath this crushing regret,
A faint ember of hope refuses to set,
For though I stumbled, though I bled,
I’m not defined by the mistakes I’ve bred.
The pain I feel is proof I care,
A signal to rise, to mend, repair,
Each dawn brings a chance to start anew,
To rebuild the path where my truth shines through.
So I’ll gather the pieces, though jagged and sharp,
And craft a new melody from this broken harp,
For while I’m flawed, I’m not my mistakes—
A heart can heal, even as it aches.
