With It Done Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

It's too late for one to hide from lies,
With it done.
It's too late to change a fake belief,
Since with it done...
It's too late to admit to a mess,
With it openly observed on the scene.

And with it done,
It's too late to admit to mistakes.
And with it done,
It's too late to mend a heart that breaks.
Since with it done,
It's too late to provide a comfort...
To someone with a pain that aches.

With it done,
It's too late for one to hide from lies.
With it done,
It's too late to change a fake belief,
Since with this done...
It's too late to admit to a mess,
With it openly observed on the scene.

And with it done,
It's too late to admit to mistakes.
And with it done,
It's too late to mend a heart that breaks.
Since with it done,
It's too late to provide a comfort...
To someone with a pain that aches.
Since with this done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing is the cause,
To produce the effect.

Since with it done,
It's too late for one to hide from lies,
To overcome and forget.
Like nothing is the cause,
That produces the effect.

And with it done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing causes,
The effect.

And with it done,
It's very hard to overcome and forget.
Like nothing causes,
The effect.
With it done.