Guilt: A poem 

A moment’s weakness 

can do a lot of damage 

It turns happiness 

into a storm of ravage 

Guilt flogs like a whip 

in the aftermath of the slip 

The torment lingers on 

even after the shadow is gone 

To stare at a reflection 

and have rue stalk with inflection 

O! The conscientious suffer too much 

from guilt’s haranguing touch 

That a cruel heartless mind 

does not regret what it’s left behind 

But it is the weakness of the good 

that weep after inflicting the wound