I'm crying in the corner of my room
Consumed by uncontrollable remorse
I cry so much my voice is rendered hoarse
And shudder as I wallow in my gloom
I think of all the people that I've hurt
Of all the awful rumors that I've spread
My God, they all must wish that I were dead
To them I'm worse than scum, worth less than dirt
It took me far too long to understand
So when I tried at last to make things right
They'd look at me with such disgust and fright
And turn away when I'd extend my hand
If only I could travel back in time
Go back to fix mistakes, to make amends
To change my bitter enemies to friends
And cleanse myself of all this mental grime
Alas, I wish I could do such a thing
And pull myself out of this wretched state
I would not have to deal with all this hate
Which shall forevermore in my heart sting
So still I sit alone and softly sob
Regretting all I've ever said and done
I stare into the barrel of this gun
And contemplate performing one last job
So I can finally forget the past
And fade away for all eternity
The one's I've hurt will then be rid of me
And then we'll all find happiness at last
Poetic Structure: This poem is written in Iambic Pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of abba.
© Copyright 2012 R. Walter Smith (UN: latinamnonvoco at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
R. Walter Smith has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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