Regret Poem by Byron S. Keats

Far too many years
I pilfered glowing coals
From the once-brilliant fires
Of our relationship.
Carelessly, I relinquished them
To crass, vainglorious men
And sacrificed our love
On an altar of indifference.

And now, Prometheus-like,
Chained by my great guilt,
I wither on this wretched rock
As acerbic memories descend daily
To eat at the essence of my existence,
While cold, gray waves
Wash over me, engulfing me
With a profound sadness.

And where, I ask, is Hercules
Who should come striding
Across the distant hills
To sever these chains
And set me free, and will I ever
Bask again in the sunshine
Of your much-desired approval?
All heroes, I fear, are dead.
And Olympus, with its ambrosia,
Velvet couches, and fabled halls?
All is but a myth.

I would throw rocks at the temples,
But find there are no temples,
And the only rocks are those
That hold my chains.