tergeR

All I do is regret.
When I wake, I regret.
As I walk, I regret.
I lay in bed, regret.

Every choice I’ve made,
good or bad in hindsight,
regret.
All regret has is hindsight.

Bad decisions are obvious,
good not so much.
I can always do better.
I should do better.

Better than what?
Everything.
Better than who?
Myself.

Perhaps I want better
than to regret.
Perhaps I want more
than to live like this.

Maybe if I make a choice
to not regret.
But then I have to wonder,
would I regret that too?

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