I hear the distant thunder through the mountains of my soul
A storm is brewing slowly as sure as there'll be rain
I'm in for a spell of trouble
Of unspeakable pain
I try but it is of no use
To avoid this confrontation
My heart awaits its cruel abuse
In an endless fustration
I face my days of torment
'Tis an error of the past
When the blooms of youth were budding
And no thoughts of gloom were cast
Mistakes come back to haunt me
From the shadows of my past
Perhaps one day I'll kill them
To be free of them at last
Now that I've grown older
Still shadows hover near
A storm is in the making
It has become very clear
I have to smite my demons
To take the bull by its horn
The day of reckoning is upon me
My day of triumphant reborn
°º¤øº°°°º¤øº¤øº°°°º¤øº°
Note:
As we grow older we may often wish
we had not made silly errors in our
past. A few of these errors sometimes
leave lasting consequencies. We may
regret time wasted in frivolous
persuits during our youth.
