Why does the past haunt us? Why does it come by your door With fast knocks And each beat echoes the one in your chest Why does it hold you captive, finding you in your most vulnerable state Points your face into the mirror And when you look it's not you that you see. You see the bruises You see the tears You see the scars. You see the fears You see the flaws And imperfections And losses And it tosses you around you think you might go crazy. You look at the image and it pulls you in.
The past The past has gone But it goes by The past should be forgotten But it does not It lingers somewhere in you, creeping inside you. Hiding in the very space of where your soul lies. The worst thing is At that moment when it knocks on your door It's you who opens it It's you who let it enter You're to blame Because you let it Into your mind And into your soul As if it were invited Because you let it sit In the parts of you that wish to rest Because you let it fill all your hollow spaces And it slowly traces Your lines, both straight and not. And not too soon you've been consumed by The past
The past is in you And you want it gone It lingers It stays And you hate it How do you get it out of a vessel that has become its home? How... That is the question.
And your choice is the answer
Do you let it stay? Or do you push it away Try to flush it out of your system Try to forget it And put it where it belongs The past. It belongs in the past. It belongs in itself. It is destined to end where it starts It is destined to circulate in its very limits The past is designed to be put back To be in the past. The past belongs in the past.
I tell myself Again and again The past is in the past The past is in the past But sometimes my bad grammar visits and i say The past was in the past The past was in the past But then again no, I scream. Put it where it belongs
I may never be a victor in this war against the past, but I know this. I am the present. You are the present. We are something the past could never reach We are the very thing the past dreamed to be Or dreaded to be
We are the nightmare of the past We are stronger than the past. You and I Trust me.
trying and venturing out on the feels of spoken word