The angels never arrived,
but I can hear the choir.
So will someone come and carry me home?
I regret my past decisions.
I was not a happy person at the time I made them.
I burnt bridges. I set fire to all that I ever knew in hopes of starting over, of starting off my new life with a clean slate.
I know there's no going back to the way things were with any of them, and I don't wish that they do. Paths have separated in different directions. There's too much water under the bridge now to ever return to how it was.
I'm not sorry for the way things ended up.
I just mourn all the possibilities that I chose to gave up.