My Own Accuser

I hold no complaints with others, it’s true,
My deepest grievances lie only with me, I accuse.

To others I've offered "it's okay," 
A grace I've shown time and again,
So why is it so hard to turn that kindness inward, 
To heal my own pain?

The sharp words of others never wound my soul,
But my own mistakes, a relentless tide, take a suffocating toll.
I know I must let go, this bitter grip untie, 
But these failures have a life of their own, and refuse to die.

I cradle these regrets, 
A heavy, familiar ache in my chest,
Praying their crushing weight will one day lighten, 
putting my weary heart to rest.

When I finally master the art of forgiving my past,
I'll finally sit in peace,
the complaining noise of my mind will no longer last.