Regret is a big word
So many go down without lest some hurt
What could have been talked
But we just sat there and moped
What could’ve been became what was
And thinking of what was makes you cuss
In the end, nothing can ever matter and it gets good
For all we are, nothing but worm food
For all those of you who do have regret,
The way ahead, know but there are two
Many decide to let ego win but with fret
While letting everything go is the path of a few
The way you go is so your choice
But the better way ahead gets up your poise
But in the end, nothing really matters,
because in the long run, we will all be dead
The Philologist 