Ill carry with me

I know I’ve hurt you more than once,

and each time, something inside me breaks.

The pain doesn’t fade, it stays,

like a scar that keeps bleeding.

I’ve said sorry a thousand times,

but the word feels small beside your tears.

No prayer or promise can undo

what my hands have done.

So I live quietly with my guilt,

like a stone in my pocket,

heavy, familiar, always there 

reminding me who I’ve been.

And when the day comes for me to leave this world,

I won’t go empty-handed.

I’ll carry this guilt with me,

all the way to the grave.