Regrets

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  • Philosophy
    • VerlassnTraum
    • The wounds are still fresh and unfortunately there is no lidocaine for love

    Regrets

    I saw a homeless man and felt sorry for a while,

    I wished to help him without coin, I wished to help him smile

    but I just turned and went my way, the way in which I came,

    ignoring that inside of me that felt that it should stay.

    Another time, while in a store a saw a little lad

    And with him was a towering man assumed to be his dad

    I saw the boy, on accident, bump over a display

    and receive a quite fierce lashing as he reached a hand this way

    I turn away this time but swore I never shall again

    permit such atrocities befall these whom I should befriend

    A man in need of comfort, a boy facing abuse

    I try to sleep at night but find there really is no use

    I let befall what should not be and haven't changed it yet

    Things which haunt me every night, I live with these regrets

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    VerlassnTraum’s Poems (24)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    My Dove 0
    Everyday Hero 0
    Man Without a Heart 1
    War 1
    Light Through Leaves 0
    Little Bird 0
    Trees Entwined 1
    Cut 1
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    Moment 0
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    The Call 0
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    A Casual Stroll in the Glen 0
    Troubles at the Tavern 0
    City Noise 0
    Shade Above The Grave 0
    Your Departure 0
    Regrets 0
    A Sonnet of Sorrow 0
    Our Symphony 0

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