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Deepest Contrition
Folder:
Poems of a Liberty City Native The deepest contrition,
Is what I feel;
I know if the contrition,
Inside is real;
From the depths of my heart,
I hereby suffer in guilt,
Because I disregard,
All the animosity I built;
I now notice that,
The deepest contrition,
Hurts all so bad.
Contrition in my head,
Leading me to you to confess,
But instead,
It has just a cultivating progress;
This is when the truth hurts,
Because I transgressed lies;
Now I seem lower than the dirts,
Of the land where love dies.
The deepest contrition,
Is what I feel;
I know if the contrition,
Inside is real;
From the depths of my heart,
I hereby suffer in guilt,
Because I disregard,
All the animosity I built;
I now notice that,
The deepest contrition,
Hurts all so bad.
The love is now lost,
In my failures of trust;
I didn't know how much they cost,
Now I must,
Because I don't want you to go;
I seriously urge you to stay,
And I think you need to know,
What I have to say.
