REGRET

It was only in the morning,

With my body sore all over and blood on my hands that I realized how deep I’ve fallen.

 

It was in that moment of realization I was reminded that even the Devil was once an Angel thrown out of the gates of heaven.

 

What made it hurt wasn’t the heartbreak.

To call it love was exaggerating.

To call it painless was a lie.

 

It hurt when I fell and it hurt when I had to dust myself up and pick up the broken pieces,

cutting myself in the process.

 

I always knew that regret tasted bitter like bile.

But you opened the door to a whole new kind of pain.

 

The kind that crushes a person from the inside out and eats them up alive.

The kind that picks at your soul until there is nothing left.

 

And before you realize the damage done, it’s far too late.

By,

Nia A., Sabah.

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