The 'what ifs' swarm my mind,
taking control, badgering me, beating me.
I could have done better;
I should have tried harder.
I question myself, my abilities, even my dreams.
Then it comes—
regret, it fills my spirit,
wishing only for another chance,
a chance to choose my choices all over again.
Now, I sulk.
I couldn't feel worse.
I cry out, "Why!"
Looking up, I cry.
Looking up, I see
a picture of my three beautiful children.
A softer, gentler tear falls upon my cheek.
Regret, it flees my spirit.
The 'what ifs' hush their taunt.
I realize there is nothing I would change.
No, not even the most horrendous things.
For I am who I am by my past,
I am who I am by my choices,
I will not regret who I am.
I cannot regret my beautiful children.
I am who I am for a purpose.
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