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 818 times
Written on 2014-07-22 at 11:36

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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