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Rated: 13+ · Other · Dark · #1738386
A poem about regret.
In the dark recesses of my mind,
I sit and ponder all alone,
A gift basket sits rotting on the table,
Doors locked, curtains closed, no one's home.

A thank you note sits, so far unread.
I know exactly what I will find inside:
Pain, lies, half-truths, endless suffering,
So here I sit. Alone, I hide.

I replay the night on fast forward,
Glancing at fragments of catastrophe,
The lives I saved and ruined,
I am a destroyer of humanity.

I thought I could repent for what I did
So I ran into that burning death box,
And found them ablaze, brought them to salvation,
Little did I know, I was a plague, a pox.

I thought these two lived alone,
Not knowing of their baby girl, three months old,
She was left alone, scorched, forgotten,
I am no hero, no courage, not bold.

They say it's not my fault,
They say how could you have known,
If they could only see the truth,
These are true evils for which I can't atone.

The truth that I hide from, haunts me,
The fact that I lit that fire.
No one was supposed to be there.
I was greedy for money, a fake, a liar.

I can't change what has happened,
So I sit here all alone, trapped inside.
Smoke rolls in, flames rise, I stare on,
The baskets engulfed and then I die.
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