Regrets I’ll Die With

Drowning in sorrow and pointlessnes, and nothing helps, those dreams destroyed me, and my self avoids me

Wrapped in abstraction, my view is dissolved, scream at the end of a tunnel; my words are breathless, the tunnel's endless

Digging up bundles of clothing for dolls, purply walls, marble peasants plough the carpet

Buried in memories bleached to the bone, hollow, entombed in toys and rocks, regrets I'll die with

11 good years, ad 12 years chasing anything that sweet

11 good years, and 20 years and 30

i'll be eighty thinking back at everything I had

Misty glaucoma'd eyes, that blur my sight, an aching back, 2 heart attacks, and weathered hnds clutching yellowed photographs, and regrets I'll die with.