Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda Poem by Je'free Y .

I am crying tears of regret -
Regret of not doing it than of doing it.

There is a kind of sloth that flows in the veins,
Sluggishly, like a river, causing the hands and feet
An aversion to motion or exertion;
A certain laziness prolonging a lethargic moment,
That almost-state-of-unconsciousness.

There is a kind of terror that paralyzes a dream,
And quarantines a prospect from its full potential;
A certain fear that suffocates, asphyxiates progress
For being in a panic room for too long.

There is a kind of complacency that devours the soul,
Crumbles time and chance into ashes in the wind;
And then the monarchy of boredom turns fatal
As there is no more vision of another star,
Of another mountain, or another world.

I am crying tears of regret -
Regret of not doing it than of doing it.