Literal Remorse Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Blinds of indecision open and close as we collect
our thoughts literally from puddles of remorse.
Thinking, blending with feelings on voyages of
grief-stricken highways, forfeiting our rights
to personal individualism.
Attempting to protect ourselves, we wear masks
and build defenses to stay aloof, not letting
anyone get close enough to know our preferences
in life.
Preferring to keep silent on wakes of turbulent
ocean waves and striving to continue to live on
desert plains, alone, with no iota of significance
planted on our horizons.