It’s hard to discern fact from fiction when decoding marks of mirth. And when I draw false conclusions, I lose some sense and worth.
Even though you forgive me now and may forget by overmorrow, I cannot help but feel the fool who’s overwhelmed by sorrow.
I looked into the eyes of a friend and felt a sense of shame. If only I could take back my words as I’m the one to blame.
And now I lie here writing when all I want is sleep. I am so very embarrassed, and nearly want to weep.
I’ve never asked such a question and I never will again. But sometimes I make bold mistakes, at least every now and then.