wasted potential

poetry

i sit and daze into nothingness,
as my eyes begin to dry up.
i hear the clock ticking,
spaced out, the outline of my
years passing by
flashes in front of my mind’s eye.

it’s filled with regret,
wasted potential
i’m unable to grasp.
why is it so hard to withstand?
the answer to this i still haven’t gotten.

oh, am i really to blame?
i would have believed there’s a limit;
instead, i am faced
with something i have no power over,
something i cannot change.

— hence why it began to overflow,
hence why the cup of my
emotions is spilled on the floor.

dribble

dribble

unsure still, i whisper to myself:
don’t let the tears go to waste,
get a new cup,
use them to paint,
for there’s so much more to create
and even more potential to regain.

---

2025.12.19. - mirella ౨ৎ