With all the promises that have dashed themselves on the rocks at your bars,
And the lives you have failed to live that haunt your dreams in the night -
Butterflies, not just in your stomach, but the ones that altered your past,
Have amalgamated both your mistakes and triumphs alike.
Regret so tangible, yet innumerable, bespattered amongst the stars,
Where wonderings of possibilities cloud your judgment of the wrong from the right.
Each decision weighing heavily, whether ‘tis better or worse than the last,
All cemented to your footsoles for the rest of your life.
Should you have loved her, or saved that love for yourself?
Countless outcomes, yet only one for each crossroad could ever come to be.
An eternity of potentiality - still not enough time to brood,
And your once-unburdened heart will never again be at peace.
You swallow your pride amongst other things and call out for help,
But even the worst things in this life are not free.
Yet, alcohol is cheaper than psychiatry, so it’s rather quick to conclude
That the help you so desperately need cannot be reached.
Look around you, oh weary mental traveler, and see what lies before you now:
A vast ocean of choices that ebb and flow, come and go, so many that you could never know.
You’re drowning in uncertainty, and you’re anchored to that which you misgive.
Perhaps you’re ill-fated for destruction, but only time will show.
There’s an unrelenting question that your anxiety has endowed:
What if the reality you wanted was relegated by the paths that you’ve chose?
There have been a million daily choices in this little life you live,
So that future that you desire may yet still be left unknown.