Is an illness with no antidote
The older we get the sicker we get
Sweetness can cure the symptoms for awhile
But eventually we all overdose on our own bitterness

The places I visit from the past
Are abandoned and left behind
I ponder to ask if they existed to begin with
Fragments of my life frozen in time

“Nostalgia” is a place I used to visit
Spray painted as an exit sign
On the other side of Saint John’s Avenue
Illuminated by flickering street light


That hollow shell of a building remains
The rest is burnt to the ground

I wonder what would have happened
If I stayed one more sleepless night
Would my body be buried in the ruble
Forever trapped inside

Nostalgia is a place I seldom visit
To look back, I hate to say I miss it
Life sometimes feels as a purgatory or a prison
Honestly, I cannot tell the difference.