Monday, 6 November 2017

My One Regret

For years you caused such pain,
But without you feels wrong and strange.
You were useless, yet demanding,
Your upkeep was outstanding.

I knew something was wrong,
Yet I kept you hanging on.
You required more attention,
Instead I let you go unmentioned.

Now the void is devastingly real,
Even the biggest bandaid can't conceal,
How bad things have become.
What's done is done.

I dedicate this poem to my fungi-riddled toe nail.