My Only Regret In Life

For my one and only love. You will never know how sorry I am, even if you do not believe me.


This song of sorrow,
Echoes through the halls.
The scar on my hand,
Reminds me of my mistake,
Everything I see,
Makes my mind hate itself.
Nothing in this world,
Can fix,
That which I have broken.
No amount of mending,
Can heal the wounds that I have caused.
It is impossible,
For all the words in the world,
To undo the choice that I have made.
I must live with this regret,
The only one I have.
Every song on the radio,
Tells me of the idiot I am.
All the movies on the screen,
Push me deeper into this pit of sadness.
The books and stories on the shelf,
Mock and ridicule me.
There isn't a thought process,
That doesn't remind me of what I have lost,
And pushed away.
This is my burden to bare,
None other can feel my pain.
I have torn my own heart,
From my chest,
For I am no longer worthy,
Of the love of another.
My longing for forgiveness,
Fall of deaf ears.
No one will know,
Of the pain,
And suffering,
That I have brought upon myself.
No one can comprehend,
The sadness that I feel.
Nothing can be done,
As I hang my head,
Wallowing in grief,
And self hate.

The Clay of Life

For Lexi - Thanks for the inspiration

With every single breathe,
Each time your lungs fill with air,
The monotonous ticking,
Of the clock on the wall,
With each passing second,
We are able,
To define who we are.
The decisions we make,
Every single moment,
Will shape us into,
The men and women,
That we will become.
Each new passing day,
Is a new opportunity,
For us,
To show the world,
Who we are on the inside,
To demonstrate who we really are,
Instead,
Of what others portray us,
Or society labels us.
When the time comes,
An you stand,
Face to face,
With the bitter taste,
Of opposition,
How will you stand?
Will you hold firm,
And sing your own tune,
As loud as your lungs can bare,
Throwing your arms into the sky
Displaying for all to see,
Who you really are,
Beneath the skin?
Or will you waver,
Being blown about,
By the winds of conformity,
Forfeiting the very thing,
That makes you unique,
Your voice?
Life is what you make of it,
Will you seize the moment,
And live it to the fullest,
Unafraid of the whispering voices?
Or will you let,
The whispers of the night,
control your every action,
Thus causing you,
To ultimately cease to exist?
Each of us must choose.
What kind of person,
Are you?

Cold Shower

My back against the wall,
Knees pulled up to my chest,
Head between my legs,
The bitter cold of the water,
Dripping down my back,
The warmth long gone,
The hours passing along like days,
This agony stretching on,
Never seeming to end.
After so long,
The cold seeps to the bones,
Now numbing the physical senses,
But its all the same.
Eventually,
Life will catch up,
To the cocoon I have created around myself.
Only able to hide,
For so long.
All roads,
Are suddenly coming to an end.
The available options,
Are starting to grow,
Few in number.
There are only,
A limited amount of escape routes.
How can I choose one,
Over another,
When all left over roads,
Are dark and deserted.
The asphalt practically new,
As a result of few travelers.
The suppressed thought,
Pushes forward,
Into my consciousness.
Secretly,
I begin to wish,
That I didn’t have to journey,
Down this dark road,
Alone.