Too Late For Regret, Mr. Hayes

ar lullaby, echoing another broken

apped in a gilded cage, enduring

o his perfect Ashley, had just shoved

r, of

ed on the asphalt, only annoyed

ear-fatal allergic reaction, and then framed me to e

ly ridding themselves of me,

as my secret, my bitter hop

my soul, leaving only a hollow antic

it. The h

oblivion, of peace, washed

iberation would come not from the permanent deat