We mourn the lives not lived
We never developed our talents
Easy to wish we’d worked harder
Or maybe loved much better
It takes no effort to miss a friend
Those we didn’t make and lost
It is not difficult to see yourself
Through the eyes of others
It is easy to regret for so long
Until our time runs out
It is not lives unlived we regret
lt is the regret itself
A regret that makes us shrivel
Wither away and shrink
Like our own worst enemy
Would any versions be better?
Lives happen, it is true
But you are happening as well
This one we have to focus on
For it is all that we have
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 