Conflagration Breathing

Voices carried through the walls

It curdles my stature

and dulls my mind

as a longing pang of guilt seeps through my bones

I remember when I was a part of these walls

Harbingers of the local community

A begrudging part of our life

Now I sit here a spectare

Alone and wasting

Shallow thoughts and desires make no noise

Sitting a spectator to vivid red of life

Eating twice over leftovers

On these nights

When I still have the wits about me

I wish I could walk in

and beg them to cherish another

Make them see that we're all wretched

To look past our bitter follies

But in truth

I'll sit here alone

Decrypted and dazed

If I was born with gospel in hand

If I was born knowing all that there is to know

If I was born a diplomat rather than a pyromaniac

If I was born right

Maybe I could have stemmed the flame in us

The all consuming wildfire of the soul

Burning through the wax of life

Regretting past regrets

Like those wretched abominations

But in truth

I'll stay here

In a room alight with angst and misdoings

Reviews

[Poetic Beauty]

This whole poem scream regret and wishing things were different.

[UlyssesS]

haha maybe a little yea