Too Many Apologies
Like a body rotting slowly beneath the floorboards,
past deeds infuse everything with the stench of mistrust and the foul and pestilent air of regret.
If a mistake would present in physical form,
no doubt my arm,
if not my heart,
would turn gangrenous and black.
If redemption were possible through suffering,
if pain would grant my absolution,
then I would gladly cut if off,
and offer it to you.
How cruel then is life?! That we are condemned to suffer every more greatly as the weight of our wrongs grows like a cancer, feeding on our hearts and growing in our minds.
Prevention is the only cure, careful guidance and obedience our only key to a chance of putting down this awful pen, of burning this poisonous letter we are all condemned to write, and the murder of hope the only action to take if we are to avoid these shattered dreams.