Ah, mistakes. Doncha love 'em.


Snow-Guilt

What have I done?
If time had stopped,
If neurons and words had ceased to collide
None would have happened.

Oh, how did conversation turn?
Should I have changed,
Or was it proper to be slapped with guilt?
Why.

Do all like me be someone else?
Or, in a second train of muse,
Am I someone else I'm not?
This is too much.

If only, if, if, if. Like hail on the roof,
Chunks of guilt rain down in my heart.
Who are we, and who should we be
In order to influence others?

No more tugging snow-guilt laden branches onto my head...
Being mortal, I'll just fall asleep.




Poetry by Inchworm
Read 427 times
Written on 2007-03-27 at 04:44

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