guilt prevents me
from writing what i feel.
it will be like announcing
to the world all my woes
and scittering whatalls.
the whatifs plaintively
whimper for their own little corner.
the whatwills shy away
from asserting their prophecies.
alas it is the shouldhaves that
proclaim the stage…their seething
anger leaves no room for the
philosophically inclined couldhaves.
the wouldhaves…that sorry bunch of late-sayers.
repeat themselves to death.
Each time creating another
and therefore we get no further to what ever there is to have.