Going Back

i always find myself
going back
to where i am, on early

mornings, i promise
myself a brand new
beginning, a place where

i shall find myself
exciting, on a new venture

away from here, but i am
always at a loss

the irony of going far away
and not arriving
at what i perceived is my own place, and so

here i am again
watching same shame in the mirror

gazing at my own eyes
shocked that i have never changed,

regrets nesting in my head
lustful eggs hatching
in same shape of sinfulness

i wait until i am
to ash begotten.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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