Sometimes it's wise to hide those
thoughts away
But foolish is the man who holds
regret.
His mind will wither, trapped by mortal
debt,
Imprisoned by the role he's doomed to
play.
From self-made cell, his heart will
seldom stray,
A life half-lived, his brow is drenched
in sweat
As he perceives some distant, unknown
threat.
A threat that creeps still closer with
each day.
And though he bears the weight of every
crime,
He'll barter with the boatman for his
soul.
But sharpened knives have cut this
thread of time
And, sinking to the depths, he's
swallowed whole.
Alone, he screams, but no one heeds his
call;
Submerged before the surface breaks his
fall.
LM
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