Tainted

A poem about mistakes

My eyes are afraid to see the written pages I can’t edit, I dare not revisit the past for I fear regret awaits me.

I doubt I am pedantic in my approaches, a prisoner of the moment, I cannot silence my impulses.

When the waves come crashing and the sun becomes eclipsed, I choose not to ride the currents but submit to burgeoning tides.

Consumed by the darkness, submerged in oceans depths, it is as if I hold my breath, taking in the consequences of my actions.

Conscious of the right decision, ignoring for a compulsive instinct. I feel I am drowning in my mistakes, habits I can’t overcome.

My words may be raw and honest but they remain lines riddled with error.

I can’t go back and make amends, once I have let my truth be known to all. I can’t linger over completed tales, for the longer they stay with me, the less likely the world will see.

I seem to be stuck between two places, either I drown in my mistakes or be damned to eternal silence.

For now, I choose the currents, awaiting reincarnation. Samara, as they say, the bittersweet cycle.

Perhaps I lose myself in heart-aching reflections, sensationalizing trivialities, resenting my imperfections.

But maybe that is just poetry, making the most of the mundane.