Wishful thinking

Sometimes I wish I was more of a risk-taker,

That I took chances without having to think of the consequences.

Looking back, I see wasted opportunities,

Floating away, glaring and taunting my being.

I hate that I rationalize things and situations

Quicker than a blink of an eye.

There are times that I should have just vented,

Or got pissed off,

Or said my peace.

Instead, I let things go

Leaving wounds that do not heal,

The scab just flapping back and forth

When loneliness sets in and overpowers me.

I enveloped myself in the guise of patience.

But they say patience stretched out is cowardice,

And I think I have been more of a coward than anything.

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