If I am wrong or regret a deed
I can tell it from my heart's plea.
As I write, I am stricken
By a worthless sense of mission.
I was not sure, how could I know
The path I walked was far too low?
If I have grieved a single soul
In any silly wayward role
I come to you, full of apology.
Not in the charming verse of mythology.
But simple like a child I hold
The decency that I erstwhile sold.