Recollection (5): Accursed Sinner

Backstabbing one's own past.

Am I a poet, or my past's murderer?

The unsolved memories have left me a killer,

As past and current selves collide,

It leaves me with nothing to hide,

...

So Gaze Upon Me, Ye Foolishness,

Admire My Failure With Compassion,

My Past is as Thin Ice, The Smoothest,

Yet The Depths of My Sorrows Can Consume a Nation,

...

An accursed sinner as I,

Deserve to be drown in sorrow when I die,

But to see again my lovers' smiles,

Then my sorrows would disperse like cloud piles.

- Stu. T.H. (December 1, 2023)