Ah memories.
How thou are a *****,
Why must you bring me down when I reach new high?
Why must the pain come recoiling back after so long?
But go ahead and do your worst, prove how I'm worthless,
How I don't deserve to be happy, how I don't even deserve to speak.
But do your worst, because I sure as hell plan to do mine.

Those three words;
hurt me, burn
me, know me.
Desolate delight. I
will burden you
with identity. I
will ache for
my divine shadows
to return. Yet
the clouds parted
and I saw
truth, some strange
recognition within, brought
by my thoughts.
"I know you."