When the Worst seemed Overly Eventual

By Benjamin Gossman

I think often of the future I warned myself of;
How a moment before many sunk to a depressive gulf.
Only past all of them,
Living in my finer after,
I more certainly forgive my tinge of death;
The guilt and regret I let lead to engulf
A mind no longer drowning to survive.
No vast abyss seemed so reviving,
No place as inviting,
Beyond these phases of latent ruination
Warped into all the possibilities alive
I sunk from seizing as my time.

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