Regret

Yup.

Regret is the flower I am allergic to, refusing to hold it, 

for it burdens me and it is meaningless to be stuck in the past 

Only glue can keep my hand in the hand of old conflicts, 

your swords can only make me battle remnants of earlier on 

Quit suffocating me with your rags, quit trying to hurt me out of spite, 

for I don't need to remember the scars, the ripped wounds

My feet wish to travel onwards to the future, the highways of new, 

so leave me be so I can journey onward, paper thin, barely breathing

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated!

Reviews

[Nette]

I enjoyed reading this piece. I liked the analogy in your first line of regret as a allergen. Your comparisons are fresh. You might want to rethink punctuation. It might increase clarity and ease of reading---(ends if lines 2, 4 and 6.).
Keep on writing!