Regret Poem

This poem is about growing old, dealing with regrets and how I would have lived my life if I had a second chance

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I'm alone too, and it's mostly my own fault. I hate it, but it's trust. Grasping for youth at 54 is not how it should be.

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Regrets In Growing Old

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Published: July 24, 2018

The hardest part of getting old,
Is dealing with regrets,
Accepting there's no going back.
One chance is all I get.

Facing dreams that I once had
That never did come true,
And knowing they can't be achieved
And there's nothing now to do.

Recalling choices that I made
That clearly changed my life.
Times when I retreated
When I should have stood to fight.

People that I pushed away
Who only meant me well.
While holding on to other ones
Who made my life a hell.

Devoting all my energy
To the work I did each day
While investing little in myself
As my own life slipped away.

Not working hard on friendships,
Or on a family of my own.
So that now in this last stage of life,
I find myself alone.

If I had to do it all again,
It wouldn't be the same.
I'd live my life more for myself.
My priorities would change.

I would reach back more to others
Who had tried to pull me close.
And cherish all those people,
Who had cared for me the most.

I would not accept hurt or abuse
But demand love and respect.
I'd nurture those parts of myself
That I tended to neglect.

I would hope to have at least one child,
Who I'd teach and guide through life.
Who would hopefully look up to me,
And treasure my advice.

I would still find time to do my work,
One thing of which I'm proud.
It was my years in social work
That were my most profound.

But as for all the time I lost,
And the things that I can't change.
I have to let it go for good
And focus on the time that now remains.

For there are no second chances.
This is the life I made.
But I pray that by my being here,
I've made a difference in some way.

more by Pat A. Fleming

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • Kris White by Kris White
  • 10 months ago

I'm alone too, and it's mostly my own fault. I hate it, but it's trust. Grasping for youth at 54 is not how it should be.

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