Literal Remorse

Blinds of indecision open and close as we collect our thoughts literally from puddles of remorse. Thinking, blending with feelings on voyages of grief-stricken highways, forfeiting our rights to personal individualism. Attempting to protect ourselves, we wear masks and build defenses to stay aloof, not letting anyone get close enough to know our preferences in life. Preferring to keep silent on wakes of turbulent ocean waves and striving to continue to live on desert plains, alone, with no iota of significance planted on our horizons.