If only I were prettier.
If only I were smarter.
If only I could talk easier
to friends as well as strangers.
If only I were closer to God.
If only He were closer to me.
If only I could know if the sorrow
I feel is more than superficial.
If only Love and Friendship were easier for me,
and not the mysteries and miseries of heartache
from the missteps and blunders
of trying too hard or not enough.
If only the fantasies of my mind were not easier
to find than the real world.
If only the earth was not so real nor so harsh
and retreat not so easy.
If only the words came as easily as the tears.
Regret sits in my heart and will not be moved.
If only I knew then what I know now,
so much could be avoided or is this inevitable? this middle age lament?
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