Riddled with Regret

riddled with regret

as I pave this path of clay

this path of which I stray

made only by my hands

which slowly start to crack

as I pick up the knack

for laying brick by brick

in a line so straight and perfect

that I hardly feel it's worth it

down on my weakened knees

path growing longer with each day

with every stone I lay

to show me the path to death

the time I may forget

all this time of regret

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