Why do I feel sorry?

Why do I feel this pain,
When others suffer more?
Where do I come off so vain,
What makes life a chore?

I hurt,
But it’s not my wound.
Yet I can’t feel my own bruises,
Still, I see the scars.

I can’t feel the present,
But I keep reliving the past.

I fear I’ve made the wrong choice,
That I’ve sent myself down the wrong path,
And left my heart behind.

Everything is spiraling,
Downward.
I’m separated,
Everything I held dear.
Is gone.
Without a trace.
Gone.

I don’t know what to do.
It all slips through my fingers,
And blows away.

All I have left is my past,
But how long will that last?

by zentouro
posted on 06/09/2007