Regrets Of A Tired Idealist
S
Sandra Feldman
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The end of the rope
Shall soon be pulled,
Getting there very,
Quickly.
Years have gone by,
You start to lose
Hope,
Everything you thought,
Was pure,
Turns acid and grey,
The masks off
The light,
Slim and dim.
For some,
Life is a certain
Road to Hell,
That you regret
Being in.
But too late,
To even object
Things are what
They are,
And you are just a shadow
In a world scared and dim,
Where the chances
Of being happy
Are always very slim.
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