Poem By gregory collins
Regret can be your pet.
Our brains have a beautiful taste.
One more problem makes all the difference in the world.
Maybe i am only homesick if i don't want to be a runaway.
Maybe a 1,000 you's can dream at the shadows in the wishing well.
Then again these eyes are not safe when playing dead.
They smell like reverse pyschology and a big lack of education.
They, like reality, are hidden in the last choice you will ever choose.