I lay soaking in the filthy bath water of what if
I drive carelessly down the interstate dreaming of what could’ve been
I bask in the sun watching the leaves sway back and forth
All of the voices around me like butterfly wings in the wind
My mind constantly vacationing to anywhere that isn’t the present
Writing so many stories my callouses have callouses
Regret hangs above me like a spider from a web
Nostalgia hugs me so hard I think my ribs will break
The thought of what could’ve been
Dangles me from a steep cliff
Forcing me to hang on