Regrets linger in the unspoken
words of a sad son.
Memories and moments,
given too gladly, to a false bliss.
offered as payment,
but how can I make amends
for a memory never made?
The hands on the clock melt
in the heat of my hate,
and I bathe in my shame
for all of the time that I’ve given away.
All effort aimed in the wrong direction,
and at the time I had no regrets
for the joy that could have been.
with no recognition of effort.
I could turn back the hands on the face,
rewind to the time
when it wasn’t too late.
Be given back those lost moments
and those wrong choices.
Given back those opportunities
thrown in the garbage.
If the possibility was offered
would I find myself still alone,
or would he share my hope?
Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.