Solid, confident, concise.
The taller he stands, the smaller the world appears.
It's easy towering above the others,
to be so sure footed.
No doubt, no fear, no worry,
to haunt his clarified mind.
Regret is a distant whisper that lingers behind,
following his ever ready footprints whichever way they lead.
But it's there,
a presence stronger than his own.
One that bites till he bleeds,
when he least expects it.
Clean it up, wipe it off, cover with a bandage.
Easier to ignore that way.
The sting pokes slowly,
reminding him.
Better to acknowledge your old friend regret, don't you think?
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