These rumbling voices are getting hard to contain,
Footsteps in my back are closer day by day,
The mind is fixated on constant memories of vain,
"I wish," are the only two words it'd say.
Self-inflicted by own mind and haunted by conceitedness,
Where my intuition had me stranded,
In this pool of remorsefulness.
Now I'm convicted and trapped in my guiltiness.
But that is my comeuppance.