Mistakes

I thought it to death, but somehow it still lives inside the pit of my stomach.
The anguish, the disgust, the thoughts of sorrow.
If I could do things over, would it be easier?
Would my thoughts be erased or could I keep the fowl lessons learned?
Perhaps I'd rather turn away than participate.
Never even try.
Left not knowing what could have happened,
Good, bad, or indifference-none of it mattering to my future.
But the deeds were done, and I'm still left with torment.
The twisting gnawing fate of resentment-
terrible fear and sadness,
only beautiful through learned experience-
to never make the mistake again, except to be human and have feelings.
A mother of dignity, a daughter of pain-
timid child afraid to whisper a single word.
I have won no war in my mind and bleed from wounds
of your sharp words.