A little piece about regret.
Ghosts appear and fade away
Sometimes they speak to me
Other times we play
They try to show me things I cannot see
I do not fear these apparitions
Question their motives
Or judge their decisions
Because in each one lives regret, denial and omissions
In truth I pity them
Because they are full of sadness and longing
Each of them lost
And none truly belonging
It is not these ghosts I fear
Rather it is my ghosts, those of my past
That haunt the precious memories I hold dear
And I contemplate in dread both first and last
For truly I am a man haunted and hounded
By a reservoir of shame
And this darkness is only compounded
When I try to break free from this net of blame
Why is it impossible to just forget?
To sleep at night?
Why can I not simply exercise all this regret?
Isn't that my right?