I don’t often write poetry. But sometimes one comes in like a lightning strike. This one came while I was driving home from work. Luckily (?) it was standing still traffic.
Sometimes I look back
I drown in a whirlpool of half forgotten regrets
Wide awake in the dead of night
Practicing what I should have said
Pining for the paths I destroyed.
The poor decisions I’ve made mock me
They deride my attempts at a better life
All the things I could have been
If I’d only followed the better path.