Pardon me if I regret this

Father, these are my confessions

I'm selfish, reckless, and restless

Pleas fall on deaf ears from friends that once were mine

I suppose that's just how time flies

They say the healer of all wounds is time

Some of my wounds will never know healing

And I suppose that's fine

But even my shadow fears the darkness in my heart and mind

And my reflection has run away from this visage of mine

I suppose this happiness is just a mirage of mine

No, I'm not happy

But I make do when I have to.

Perhaps, I'm forever stuck in the past

Wishing for things that could've and should've last

If only I had played my cards right

Doubtless, even though we're on opposing sides of this booth

I can't trust you with even part of the truth

Much less, the whole of it

Then again, I couldn't trust myself with it

So, I've locked it, hid it, for the rest of eternity

I suppose you could say "That's not helping me."

I guess not.

But I make do when I have to.

Because that's what makes me...me.