I was preachin’ to the choir,
but a year or two has passed,
now I’m sittin’ in the quiet,
in the mirror a jackass.
Truism’s sting: You will regret,
the things that you don’t do,
Your echo fades, it’s way too late,
to wind back time and truth.
To my defence, to my regret,
I played a half-closed hand.
Not strong enough to decide,
my head stuck deep in sand.
As they say, to make an omelette,
gotta break an egg or two.
But I spent my time convincin’ myself
I was not in love with you.
Some say pain is why the human species lives and thrives.
I must be some super-alpha, with the benefit of hindsight.
©1.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman