As I fold my final memory
Of my traumatic, desperate past,
I caress it, somewhat fondly,
Knowing it could never last.

It smells of pain, an awful cluster
Of events that should've been -
'I should have known,'
I whisper, flustered,
'I should have guessed. I should have seen.'

But I digress -
There's people waiting,
People storming through the street,
People talking, screaming, stating,
Hearts to hear and souls to meet.

And I fall into the masses,
Breathing in their soft embrace,
Breaking through the chains and classes,
Smothered by the light of grace.

I give up all vengeful wonders,
I put all my fears to sleep,
Cutting ties with tales of thunders,
Skipping over cuts that weep.

Back then it was oh-so simpler,
I denied the wrongs of man.
Oh, I'd beg, and heal, and whimper,
For a chance to start again.