Regrets plague me
Memories flash and enrage me
Things done unto me and things I have done unto others.
No perfect being walks this earth.
The regret that I unearth.
Digging in an endless chasm that is my mind.
Yet it is a futile mine no ore to replenish the perseverance
The searing essence steering the effervescent 'or' of what could have been.
Life it seems for none is saintly serene
As, a youth I did dream to leave no mark of evil on the earth.
But my belligerence is my only downfall for what it's worth.
The memories of other sins that curse.
That make a memoir terse.
To see a shadow of meaning in the nightmares that I am gleaning.
And in my waking slumber I continue to aspire to be dreaming.
Of a picturesque existence without regret.
No one do I hold in my debt.
For I never forget that I am human too.
A life of which I acknowledge those I am indebted too.
I have made mistakes and they grapple me, and I seek not to accrue.
My regret must never be misconstrued.
As I seek to forgive myself and remember what is due.
And seek to have a better self-anew.
For what use is self-torment when prevents good action to ensue!
And so too the trespass of the other in the mind must meet adieu.
Diligently coordinating regret so that semblance of compassion is the only attitude.
And in that moment i find rectitude...
Or do I wallow in regret and remain destitute?