A poem I wrote, about regret and self pity, and finding the will to fight them off.

I thought this place was a sanctuaryaye, and all too soon
For silence mocks the words I say and walls tumble like dice in Atlantic City
Forgive the insanity…I know not what I do.
Pacifiers and fire engines in stunning sunset-red,
And harassed by those who know better.

Hold me…No, don’t after all…it’s wrong, as you said...
Can’t you make up my mind?
For uncertain sureness, the world will find you a suitor, all you need to is wait…

And all the roses in the world will not come so cold ends as me,
Rose of ice, of silvery sirens, of blue eyes sharp as wit.
No warm hand will melt me. And though I say that I do not care,
I do care, or I never would have said that I didn’t…
I have such trouble understanding the human mind
But I don’t care.

I make arrangements of dried flowers, lucky them that they are dead.
They won’t feel the pain of the slow death in an ornamental vase that I would award them.
Forgive me, flowers, you deserve better than I can give you…
And thus I cast them into the unforgiving ocean, and very soon after,
I somehow find the courage…to walk away from the window
And not cast myself.

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