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and now, most recently:
After writing the bulk of my poetry at 15-19 years old, I just stopped until a few days ago when I wrote this:
regret
it is a weight upon my chest.
holding me down,
everpresent.
i lay alone in bed at night,
trying to sleep, shedding these silent tears.
it visits me in a nightmare,
shone like a film upon my mind.
a knot in my stomache that can be ignored,
but will never leave me be.
always there as a reminder in faith,
of my many invading mistakes,
my horrible beautiful secret,
my many disappointments,
my many wasted chances,
and discarded opportunities.
my dreams, a way out,
a mocking labyrinth of the past.
tales spun by a self-destructive muse,
shameful moments stitched together,
no pleasant dreams yet to be found,
reminiscent of the brighter future which is not to be.
because of me.
__________________
seretogis - sieg heil
perfect little dream the kind that hurts the most, forgot how it feels well almost
no one to blame always the same, open my eyes wake up in flames
Last edited by seretogis; 06-06-2003 at 02:53 AM..
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