Again I am left to wonder:
Who am I to all of you?
Do you care what happens at all?
Have you seen what I try to do?
Will this sorrow continue to bubble?
Will I succumb to what I believe?
Why do I rely so much
On the things the lie and deceive?
Memories so statuesque;
Hopeless to believe you care.
Burdened by the recollection
To be left in moderate despair?
Regret is just a word,
To represent a waste of time.
I cannot take it back or forget,
So why let it sit like a crime?
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