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.