The Loop of Regret: Why Finishing Hurts Less Than Turning Back

If I move one step ahead,
Then take three steps back,
The finish line fades,
I lose the track.
Farther I drift, not forward but behind,
A race undone, a loop confined.

If I merely want, I may wander away,
But when I need, I choose to stay.
Desire may flinch, but need stands tall —
No pain, no fear, can make it fall.

If it hurts, then still I’ll run,
To see the end beneath the sun.
Not flee the track, not curse the sky,
But race through ache — and learn to fly.

I’m on the path, I’ve come halfway,
The hurt grows louder every day.
But turning back takes just as much,
The same old time, the same worn touch.
Why retreat, to face it twice?
This loop won’t spare you, nor play nice.

Reach the line — find your key.
Face the fire, claim victory.
Or turn around, mid-hope, mid-fight,
And wonder if you just held tight…

The sting of quitting never fades.
Regret is the heaviest price ever paid.
The pain of finishing is sharp and true,
But far less cruel than the “What if?” in you.