A Contritional Sonnet Poem by Dan Reynolds

This thread is far too thin to bear the load
The weight it bears I swear, will never hold
As we retrace the paces where we rode
O'er track and field through ashes hot and cold

Regrets and revelations wait in line
A truth above all truth, that holds the threat.
The day that named the shame that is all mine
The deeds, indeed, we all try to forget.

A million poor excuses dredged below
The channels of my navigated course
An anchor dangles with nowhere to go
But downwards, thus returning to the source

No threads, nor ropes or cables hold for me
The penance that could ever set me free