Sometimes I think, "What might've been...?"

And on these fancy flights is when

My brain will start to hurt and ache

As I recall each last mistake

And all the who's and when's and how

I would've done things better now

I think of witty things I say

To year or month or even day-

Old memories, far long forgot

By other people who do not

Obsess on things they cannot change

I bet they'd find me weird and strange

I, only, dwell on could/should/might

I know that's true. It must be. Right?