regret

the beginning of the end began, when the nights turned back to noise.

they lost their hue of glow and gloss, their lustre now forgettable.

the end of the beginning was, as early as could tell.

before it started, the seeds were planted; in time they blossomed death.

the beginning was, as good as it was, as it could be, or thought to be.

but that soon fell as lightning does, in a flash of uncertainty.

the end was, and is, is now... where the world is, and can, finally be seen;

shorn of empty goodwill and of faux grace, its stark reality.

for as it began, it did end; perhaps nothing could have changed,

the timely truth of untimely lies; in light, its errors i do now face.