Regrets

Didnt think it would come to a day,
When I wouldn't want to pick up a pen,
I stare at the paper and think,
What brought me here?
All the choices I made,
Knowing quite well the consequences,
Knowing that I won't win in the end,
Stare right back at me in my face,
These choices will live and die with me,
They are mine,
They are my regrets.
I want to put them into words,
But for once,
A poet is left spechless,
Left with nothing to say,
What can I say?
That I screwed up?
Yes I did.
I thought I was smarter,
I thought I was sensitive,
I thought I was sympathetic,
I thought I was a better person,
Than what I've showed myself to be,
But I've proved myself wrong,
And while I sit here and cry,
Without a shoulder to lean on,
All my friends no longer around,
This is a situation of my own making,
I must suffer alone.



Poetry by Kshiti Dubey
Read 777 times
Written on 2014-07-22 at 11:36

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Eli The PoetBay support member heart!
Some might see this dialogue as plain, but there is power in truth, even if it is not your own.

Thanks.
2014-07-22