December day

On the fourth of December, words sharp as frost,

I told you to depart, my emotions were lost.

In anger's embrace, I pushed you away,

Not realizing the price I would soon pay.

As the moments unfolded, aggression took hold,

But within my heart, a different story was told.

A silent ache, a pain I couldn't confess,

The wounds of my soul, hidden in distress.

Time, a relentless witness, revealed the truth,

That in pushing you away, I'd hurt my own youth.

Regret now echoes in the chambers of my chest,

For I am more wounded than I ever guessed.

I've come to see the damage my words have sown,

A garden of sorrow in my heart, overgrown.

I apologize for the storm that I unleashed,

In its aftermath, my own anguish increased.

So on this December day, I pen this verse,

A confession of pain, a poetic converse.

Humbled by the lessons, in remorse, I confide,

For in hurting you, I wounded myself inside.