Who else is a slave of their past?

That chilling to the bone sensation, hard to pass.

Small memories that haunt you;

All your mistakes, they cling to you.

The steps you retrace,

Each night, in a trance:

That contrast you make between the good times and now;

It breaks you inside all over again, somewhere, somehow.

Yet you do it, again and again, every day,

You mull over the words you should've said.

Alternative scenarios, so many possibilities;

You can't get rid of that compelling insanity.

Because only if you'd understood them back then,

If only you'd done the right thing back then,

If only you hadn't screamed your mind out

And maybe just listened to what they wanted to tell you about,

Maybe you wouldn't be lounging on the couch;

Three in the morning when the world is knocked out;

Staring at the ceiling, thinking of ways to break out

Of your never-ending speculations of your ever-present self-doubts.