My entry to a Poetry Contest: MY-NICHE, Theme: "Regret".

IMAGE SOURCE

I wish I never lived
I wish I never breathed
I wish I never had
A taste of life
I wish I never spoke
Nor ever wore a cloak
I wish I ceased to be
But nay I lived.

....
I could see beyond what other saw. It started in split-second and still is. The man was breathing his last and the stones haven't ceased to come. Should nothing happen soon, his life would be gone.

.
I could hear him recounting his life's experiences. It was more like a biography, for he was as good as dead. I could hear him tell of an after-life. That he was damned and doomed.

.
He was no different from an unwanted baby. Or, one whose parents died at an early age. The words I hear meant more of that than one who turned an hooligan of his own volition.

.
His life was a misery; his story was worse. The words I hear weren't much clear but spoke volumes of evil and disaster.

.
My mortal body could contain the imagery no more. I fell into a trance. Here, I saw the motion picture in the clearest d ever seen.

.
Of a certainty, his parent dumped him on the streets. It was a birth of shame - teenage pregnancies are. His mother couldn't savage taking care of one born of an irresponsible father, and mother.
An old woman found him and took him home, nursing him as her own baby. Of course, she knew what could make a mother dispose her baby - after being through an experience of nine months.
I woke up having had a trance of few seconds, without knowing why he stole.
Just in time to hear someone wincing in pain, recounting his tale.

.
Well, he's a street boy whose cards played odd. It's a pity he got caught, but more pitiful that he stole.

IMAGE SOURCE

https://steemit.com/contest/@awolesigideon/win-10-sbd-and-upvotes-in-my-niche-contest-1-c701e484e99af