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Things I Don't Speak About
If melancholy was an ocean,
I’d be drowning, with names of forgotten souls weighing me down
like they do in my memories
A remorse that can’t be told.
I skip the wakes for the things I helped die
from time and time of neglect
A guilt I can’t escape
For joining something I could easily forget
A remorse that can’t be told
I’m pained when I oversee the obvious
my oblivion always reigns supreme
people’s efforts go unnoticed
as their dedication is dismissed
A remorse that can’t be told
And the worst of all
inflicting pain on others
a sin that’s hard to carry
with guilt that keeps me hurting.
A remorse that can’t be told.
Last few words:
This is a resubmit of a poem I posted on the stream about a month ago.
Editing stage:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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neopoet
Tue, 2023-05-16 11:32
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