Wednesday, November 21, 2007


A shadow hanging over me:
A mishap from recent past.
An accident, a slip of the hand;
Good days can never last.

I seek true forgiveness,
but all I find is spite.
My eyes are unfocused, glistening,
With tears brought by the bite.

Nausea, tears and sore regret
are symptoms of this virus.
I cannot shake this sickness off
Unless there's pardon between us.

"An accident", I swear to you,
But will you hear my plea?
No, just roll your eyes and plug your ears
And pretend you do not see me.

You're self-righteous, sanctimonious,
And this act is getting tired.
Do you not see these red, swollen eyes
Your bitterness has inspired?
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