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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
