Ghost Of My Regret

When I'm lying in my bed,
A foggy figure mocks me,
Brings back my regret,
And does it with glee,

Maybe it's the ghost of my past,
Even present or future,
His presence makes me gasp,
Because what I did, he makes me picture,

I suppose I deserve it,
Yet I feel I'm being abused,
When all I do is sit,
With sadness I'm infused,

'I didn't mean to do that',
Is what I used to say,
But being sneaky like a cat,
Won't ever really pay.