There is a quiet feeling called Regret, that stirs inside me yet.

A pang from far away, a forgotten summer day.

A lazy languish in the pool of yore, a memory pushed to the fore.

I could yet dissolve in a mountain of tears, the giddy altitude of my fears.

I see the face, I feel the hurt. The heavens they are giving birth.

I remember you, I can’t forget. I try to, it’s not happened yet.

The strike of lightning on a calm day, the wind blows all the sea away.

You are the thunderbolt down my life. That one moment of unremitting strife.

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