Regrets 2

Thus am I lost, in this waking nightmare. Without solace, I find myself on the verge of desperation, as my tears still fall ever so silently. There is a measure of peace here in this world, while the darkness may converge firmly upon me, there is always light in the absence of memory.

Regret is a bitter thing, how sad this word is to convey such meaning. Am I to live each day at it's fullest in it's suffocating grasp? The result of endless questioning as I bring myself to this path, time and again. I walk down this memory each time in solitude, always aware of the consequences, the pursuit of this constant angst.

While we may always try to forget the wounds we suffer in life, the mind will always portray them endlessly. How long before they heal, and all is well again in my world? Is there such a thing, as a perfect moment, in which we can escape to, forever ignorant of the chains that drag us ever so downward. Those cold steel hooks that tether our soul, unable to break away, and find freedom.

Will I ever think differently on this bleak outlook? Perhaps find the light inside that I wish to shed upon the growing darkness that seems to consume each random thought. Or will I continually suffer inside, never achieving the peace I grow so desperate to find.

There are those I long to speak with, yet our path's that once crossed no longer find their convergence upon my own. We are distanced, and forlorn I remember yesterday, the days in which I could smile openly. Now, my only comfort is the night, gone black.