I am so tangled up in these vines of regret
I don't know where they begin or I end,
They just beget more and more grief,
And more and more debt.
I am entangled in so many
I've choking over it,
trying to promise myself
that I'm done with this,
trying to make promises to God
that I've had my fill,
but the next time that my will
takes over another vine forms
and I blow my cover.
These vines of regret are in so deep
that I don't even notice them when I sleep,
but they are cutting into my skin
reminding me of all the times when
I could have avoided this pain and not sinned.
But it doesn't matter.
Because when sin comes knocking,
the vines disappear,
they are in league with the demons that I fear and when I am tempted,
the pain stops for a moment
The hurt dissipates like a spell broken
and I rehearse all the lines
that I'm supposed to remember
and all the times when I know that I've failed but it never works
because once the deed is done,
a new vine is birthed from the ashes of the ones I thought I shed.
I am hanging by so many now, it's like a hammock in the sky,
the bed I've made and the one I lie in.
And the worst part is that
I think I'm comfortable here,
not ready to cut them all off
and carve them out of my skin,
Not ready to witness the mess that I'm in,
not prepared to see all the scars I have given myself,
trapped among these green chains
that can grow and live and breath and whisper. Regret is not something ignore,
like blisters
No those scars stay longer,
and unless you grow stronger,
Regret will be forever.
SK
