And so you cross another line –
A sign you’ll never learn –
And, though it wasn’t your design,
The bloody hounds return:
The world could be a pretty place,
Its days of laughter long,
And yet you’re having now to face
The weight of doing wrong.
You wonder why you even start;
You might as well forgo
The hope of harnessing a heart
That’s packed in ice and snow.
And so you choose to stay in bed
And make a mess of that, instead.
Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash
Wrongdoing
