Remorse — is Memory — awake —
Her Parties all astir —
A Presence of Departed Acts —
At window — and at Door —
Its Past — set down before the Soul
And lighted with a Match —
Perusal — to facilitate —
And help Belief to stretch —
Remorse is cureless — the Disease
Not even God — can heal —
For ’tis His institution — and
The Adequate of Hell —
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This poem really speaks to me. It discusses the feelings you have after you’ve done something wrong and how they will always linger. The feeling will never go away, not until time can brush it into the past.