I wonder what I’ll regret when I get old . . .
An inclining creeps up
That what I won’t regret
Is all of the nights going out for drinks with friends
Or all of the dates
Or all of the sex
But what I might regret
Is
All
Of
The
Nights
Spent
At home
Alone
Doing nothing
But scrolling through my phone
While watching a meaningless show
And another inclining hits me
That I’ll regret
Working the jobs
That I couldn't stand
Hours
Days
Years
Decades
Just
Pissed away
At a thankless job
I don’t want to stay in my home
Night after night
Going to bed early
And waking up early
I don’t want that life
And yet
It is a pattern
And a comfort
That I’ve fallen into
“Singing songs of his own cage . . .
Will the door hangs open . . .
Daring the canary
To take flight . . .
But
He sits still
On his perch
Embracing
His comfort
In his cage . . .
It’s no wonder his song’s sound so sad.”
-C.H.