Laying on your bed staring at the ceiling,
Wondering and pondering on thoughts vague and grave you’ve been concealing.
Asking questions to the void of emptiness,
With only response of silence.
The wish of an undoing,
Colliding with the grim of reality unbecoming.
There is always pain,
There is always regrets and stain.
But you still draw breath,
That’s your second chance.