The Quest.

I know regret when I see it,
I spot it easily on your grey blotted aura.
It glistens through your bloodshot eyes, 

the windows of your soul,
one glance is more than enough to recognize it.
You have taken it upon yourself to seek redemption,
From things you have no control over,
but it never hurts to try.
The sought after resurrection
of what have been long dead will drain you,
yet, you carry on,
with a broken compass and a useless map,
determined to revive what was once alive,
reclaim what was once yours,
But you can't seem to find it.
That missing thing.
You tell yourself that you've got nothing to lose and maybe
Just maybe
This time there will be a different outcome.
A lie you cradle along with the truth.
And when you go back to where you started,
You swallow your pride and  disappointment,
Like splinters of wood, 
But your insides are lined with sandpaper,
your spine is made of steel,
and none of it longer fazes you.