Guilt

I wish I could stop feeling guilty,

stop planning unto infinity.

Waiting for quick heals,

cause often I feel like

collapsing into a heap.

And crawling grey for awhile,

isn’t so bad is it?

I just can’t get myself to make the most of it.

Maybe I’m one of those slow, aging wines,

that stays sullen in a stiff barrel,

dawdling and yodelling across seasons,

until grapier notes emerge,

when it feels safer to carelessly emote.

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