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?