In the Book of Regrets, I find my verse,
A melancholy tale, a mournful curse,
Each page a chapter of my soul's lament,
A chronicle of choices, poorly spent.

In ink of sorrow, penned with trembling hand,
I read the tales of dreams I couldn't stand,
The roads I didn't take, the chances missed,
In the Book of Regrets, my heart is amiss.

I weep for moments lost in careless haste,
For love forsaken, bitter...