Regret

One heart broken and another heart torn
A dense impulse bringing superfluos anger
A deep dash of regret slashing my heart
cutting it, slicing it, leaving deep scars
I'm burning,
in the flames of terror,
terror from bringing out her inner monster,
the monster that might engulf her.
I'm burning,
in the flare of anger,
anger from the dark clouds passing her face,
the face that I tried respecting so much.
That letter should never have left those hands that mangle,
soaked in blood from the murder of my conscience.
Streams of tears and sweat will flow,
the stab of regret will have to follow.
Why did that letter have to leave my hands?

[Written when I was 13?]