“I’ll chase you”,
says Regret
“wherever you go.”
Hide me in your silence,
I will still thrive
Pretend being the accused,
I will still be alive.
Smash me by indulgence,
I will not turn away.
With you,
forever, I will stay.

But, after failing,
for once,
Admit my presence.
Mourne, or get angry,
don’t give in to pretence.
For once,
forgive yourself
And I promise, then
I will walk away.



Why is poetry sweet
when it talks of sorrow?
Why is love true
when it keeps waiting for tomorrow?
Why do stories appeal
when they don’t have an end?
Why are lies more alluring
and true words hollow?