Feb 2011
I don't remember anything
My childhood.
I only have these short flashbacks.
Maybe what I see is a dream,
that can't be.
It has to be true.
My past,
Must have went good.
In a way I'm happy I don't remember it,
that way I can't live in the past except with a running memory.
Running it's laps with it's infinite breath on it's never-ending track.
I live:
Not to make regrets,
so he is not a regret.
He's my savior.
In a certain way.
In a way through my heart,
he left a sorrow,
an undependable sorrow that burdened my shoulders.
It felt like a million pounds on my weak back,
bending and breaking.
But then I took note,
I've probably never been more alive in my life,
why am I standing here crying?
Why am I wasting my time yearning for something I don't need to go back for.
I live- Not to make regrets.
I live- In the present not the past.
My past
Is not my future,
My past is not,
my present.
My childhood.
I only have these short flashbacks.
Maybe what I see is a dream,
that can't be.
It has to be true.
My past,
Must have went good.
In a way I'm happy I don't remember it,
that way I can't live in the past except with a running memory.
Running it's laps with it's infinite breath on it's never-ending track.
I live:
Not to make regrets,
so he is not a regret.
He's my savior.
In a certain way.
In a way through my heart,
he left a sorrow,
an undependable sorrow that burdened my shoulders.
It felt like a million pounds on my weak back,
bending and breaking.
But then I took note,
I've probably never been more alive in my life,
why am I standing here crying?
Why am I wasting my time yearning for something I don't need to go back for.
I live- Not to make regrets.
I live- In the present not the past.
My past
Is not my future,
My past is not,
my present.
This poem
Is sort of story, a story I choose not to tell. In fact only one person knows, but at some point I think it was last year, I thought I was dead. Because of something that has been mentioned in lots of my poems. And it was love. I don't think I can trust love, inexplicably, that is. It hurt a lot, but a few months later, my friend made me realize "why are crying? You've probably never been more alive in your life."- From Unreplacable.
Is sort of story, a story I choose not to tell. In fact only one person knows, but at some point I think it was last year, I thought I was dead. Because of something that has been mentioned in lots of my poems. And it was love. I don't think I can trust love, inexplicably, that is. It hurt a lot, but a few months later, my friend made me realize "why are crying? You've probably never been more alive in your life."- From Unreplacable.
