Regret
I hate those what ifs
Surviving
is easier said than done
Dreaming
of what i could have been
change
wishing i could go back
slipping
on my words
Wounded
from the battle i could never win
knowing
the pieces fit
Wounded
pain is an illusion
vision
i see parts but not the hole
Past
is so far away
Reason
to point the finger
Drowning
in a sea of regret
my found poem. words from Tool, A Perfect Circle, and Thrice
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