what regret do we lay with at night, what is it we do not share, not even with ourselves.

i have gone over my life, judged my actions, my worth, and the causes i have fought within, anguish is like carbon-monoxide invisible to the eye, but the smell of death is it's name. my artificial life which once was, is now the caretaker of me within.

sweet as the honey dew, is the regrets that i faced, and have left behind, it is what has huanted me, following me like my shadow, sufficating my days, roaming my mind in the night.

my imagination has bound me here, composer plunge's my will, as i seek redemption from my incriminating fame of self. i bow my head as i try to remember the words to my prayer, know i lay me down to sleep i pray my my my the lord my soul to take, and if i whipser this last words low, they will not be heard, and if i die before i wake, i pray the lord my soul to take. with mirrored tears in my eye's.

he knows me.