The Mistakes I’ve Made
In a life as short as mine,
It’s hard to picture,
A story of such decline,
That it is only a blur.
Looking at the footsteps behind,
Me, I spy a crack,
It seems to grind,
Into my past to a’ hack.
Is the past changeable?
Or, like life’s tide,
The stream irreversible,
Is it a locked world beside?
Every step I take,
My heart is ripped,
With the ultimate mistake,
Of doubting the world’s worshipped.
Is sorry an empty phrase?
A wrong turn runs deep,
In the everlasting maze,
Of lost sheep.
Is impossibility on the run for,
The path of forgiveness?
Only the wild in its splendor,
Greets a soul of blackness.
So many tears shed,
Over a few glances.
Such a fragile place I fled,
To come to a land of pikes and lances.
Evil seeded into my soul,
Engulfing my being,
And pushing me into the hole,
With no hope of fleeing.
Oh, the mistakes I’ve made,
The things I bade,
Farewell, forever paid.
