Things I Don't Speak About

If melancholy was an ocean,
I’d be drowning, with names of forgotten souls weighing me down
like they do in my memories

A remorse that can’t be told.

I skip the wakes for the things I helped die
from time and time of neglect
A guilt I can’t escape
For joining something I could easily forget

A remorse that can’t be told

I’m pained when I oversee the obvious
my oblivion always reigns supreme
people’s efforts go unnoticed
as their dedication is dismissed

A remorse that can’t be told

And the worst of all
inflicting pain on others
a sin that’s hard to carry
with guilt that keeps me hurting.

A remorse that can’t be told.