Pickled

Solo and Ensemble contest was this Saturday And I was asked not to go My youngest daughter had a part She sang her pretty songs. My pickle is the bitterness in my heart I hold Is more or less a cancer for my soul And it’s turning my personality ice cold. I had it in my mind exactly what I was going to do, The pickle was that I was angry And revenge I wanted to exact But I stopped and cried and cried Because I really wanted a broken relationship back. I know why it broke, And I can’t say I am not to blame The problem I have narcissistic, by psychological name. And my pickle is that I can’t change the past And so my thoughts spiral out of control. No one offers hope when you are down Good luck to fixing that Because she is hurt too Redemption is not a thing I might get And its not something I expect to ever find. Like the sour pickle sits in a bath of vinegar. I don’t expect a relationship pure, But I hope for a do over I know it’s much to expect. Do you know that I live with regret?