Regrets of the Dying | Short Poem No. 25

These are the regrets of the dying

(don’t let it be you):

I’ve got this heart of gold.

I’ve got this heart that’s cold.

And it’s been getting old (numb).

But anyways,

I press on, on,

on and on,

I press on, on

but not getting done.

When will I stop?

It’s cold and numb

but I press on. on,

on and on.

regrets of the dying

And it’s more, more,

but my eyes are sealed,

It’s more, more

(It’s not yet real).

And I’ll break, break

this heart of glass.

And I’ll break, break

this heart of glass.

And I’ll break, break

this heart of glass.

until regrets are the

only things that last.

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