Sins of A Confessionalist

Tue, 06/09/2015 - 08:20 -- Sylis
Pardon me if I regret this
Father, these are my confessions
I'm selfish, reckless, and restless
Pleas fall on deaf ears from friends that once were mine
I suppose that's just how time flies
They say the healer of all wounds is time
Some of my wounds will never know healing
And I suppose that's fine
But even my shadow fears the darkness in my heart and mind
And my reflection has run away from this visage of mine
I suppose this happiness is just a mirage of mine
No, I'm not happy
But I make do when I have to.
Perhaps, I'm forever stuck in the past
Wishing for things that could've and should've last
If only I had played my cards right
Doubtless, even though we're on opposing sides of this booth
I can't trust you with even part of the truth
Much less, the whole of it
Then again, I couldn't trust myself with it
So, I've locked it, hid it, for the rest of eternity
I suppose you could say "That's not helping me."
I guess not.
But I make do when I have to.
Because that's what makes me...me.
This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741