The Lonely Recluse

Haunted

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Looks like I’m back to writing poetry after a number of years doing other things, and having my min sorted in other methods, but I find my self needing to write again, so it might as well get posted again. Hello.

The hopes and regrets of
A hundred futures
And a hundred pasts
Haunt me tonight
How things
Could have
Would have
Should have?
Been
If only.
If only.
But they weren’t
And they aren’t
And I’m left with just
The hopes and regrets of
A hundred futures
And a hundred pasts.

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