Twisted and mangled like disregarded wrappings strewn across a bare floor, this guilt mangles and twists me into a shape, devoid of the man, I was before.
Ash grey skin as bleak and lifeless as floating body, once walked with pinker complexion, now floats and swirls face down, lost to all, a sad reflection.
Hindsight, its torturous memory, taunts with constant projection, of the once possible, now unobtainable choices, of a wiser, direction.
Eyes haunted with pasts entity, possess all the answers, but none of the keys, lost in times forgotten, to open seas.
Guilt a burden, mine`s deserved, forgiveness a virtue, or so I’ve heard.
Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.