In the heart's cavernous depths, we find our pain,
The ghostly echo of choices, no less vain
Regret, you are the bitter harvest reaped,
A quiet, ceaseless pulse, in silence wept.
Our youth, like a wild dream, once held us
close,
On unmarked trails, we sought our joy's repose.
Yet now, spectres of memory us deceive,
In daydreams woven, and the silent eve.
How acrid is the flavour of time lost,
Of love misplaced, and words by fear embossed.
A melody shattered, an untuned bell,
Mirrors regret for the tranquility we fell.
Today, we are but players in life's masque,
Bound to yesterday, in sorrow's icy clasp.
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