I need to escape the past,
But how do I escape that which has made me,
That which has developed me,
As a film,
Pressed with the stains of a forgotten time
But a remembered pain.

How do I forget the past I created and in turn used
To create me and my knowledge,
The power I use to circumnavigate
the treacherous waters of the present,
A present so wilted by my distaste and displeasure
One simply cannot fall away
And out of the depression the past creates.

How can something like the past, in the past
Be so current,
Ruling the present and so Forward
As to rule the future.

How can I escape the past,
The past which built me?
Is to ask how can the house escape its builder
When without it, I would suffer no grandeur
And experience no appreciation.

The past has built me,
Moulded me,
The faint moss washing over.

My past has led me to this present,
The present I am so grateful for,
How could I wish it undone?

I am not my past...
But I am my Past's creation,