Absence sorrows, like finding a hole in the left pocked of your soul, where you had bit and pieces of tenderness, love and little bit fond old memories.
Just a little hole and all is gone...

Regrets,
opened all the clocks around
trying to take all those times back,
searching...
in the wheels between the wheels
for any dead little hour
that got left inside;
for the shadow of a minute
which I heard its cry,
surrounded...
by decaying little bit seconds,
that like small soldiers
came marching, only once.

Regrets,
of having ducket that bullet
which my name inscribed had;
solitude...
after seeing enemies and brothers
piling up, discarded carcasses,
and for what?
so Arlington could have more stones
and make us so much more proud?
sacrifices...
of soldiers no yet on manhood,
just cannon fodder
from mothers with wringing hands.

Regrets,
of no grabbing a illusion
that was in front of me going by;
sadness...
realizing that after she was gone,
it was undying love
but in disguise,
it was the truth knocking on the door,
happines, tenderness, but
wearing the clothes of a lie;
stigmatize...
the feelings of regrets, it's only guilt
knocking on the door of your life.

Another clock, wheel between the wheels,
I couldn't find even one of my lost hours.