My current life is in rewind mode.
Iām looking for answers. Iām looking for codes.
Calmness for me is like a ghost.
Iām looking for answers. They are foremost.
Thereās no need for sorrow, no need for cry.
It counts for nothing. It's all a lie.
I need to find the very twist.
But time doesnāt slow down at least.
Iām going backwards. My memoryās tricky.
It keeps all in mind. It is so sticky.
I rake up all: how loved, how fought,
How I forgave, and how I sought.
I spilled into ash, but I got up.
I saved myself, but others closed up.
Iām digging, throwing, looking for answers.
It beats me whole. Itās like a cancer.
What if that's all a fiction, a wrong?
Like the Atlantis, sunk too long.
A legend, which is almost forgotten.
And me, who wasnāt loved as a rotten.
And now Iām going back again,
Ridiculous, clumsy, unhelpful, mundane.
My world relocated a long time ago.
Itās an emptiness warehouse, a storage of Echo.
This poem is a kind of revelation, a confession. It is too important and too pain. Thank you for reading it.