It’s funny
It’s strange
What things you remember
And what you don’t
If you asked me what I said to my aunt
When my grandfather died
That had upset her so much
Four years ago, I wouldn’t know what to tell you
But I’d know I felt guilty
It was probably something
About how we all knew she was playing it up
For attention
Which she was, but I still shouldn’t have said
What I did
If you asked me for a specific memory
From when I was four
I’d tell you about how
A dog bite me
And I had to get 13 stitches
And how my mom bought me soda after
Which was such a treat
Because I did such a good job sitting still
So they could sew up the wound
I’d even tell you that I bit first,
Because my grandfather thought
I’d understand his sarcasm
When he asked
“What do dogs taste like?”
(Hint: I didn’t understand,
Not at all)
It’s funny how
I can remember the time when I was 6
And I believed full heartedly in demons
And my mom came home late
So I momentarily believed
A demon had replaced her
(Thankfully, I quickly got over that delusion)
It’s funny how
I can remember making my cousin cry
When I was 14
And she was 7
By locking her in the bathroom
With the lights off
As I shouted
****** Mary, ****** Mary, ****** Mary!”
Just to freak her out
But I can’t remember why I did
The things I have
I just remember the guilt
The guilt when I finally realized I could have
Seriously hurt the dog
And that she had been abused previously
The guilt of accusing my aunt
The waves of guilt
Crashing against me
When my cousin started sobbing
The relief of never telling mom
That I once thought a demon had
Replaced her
It seems
All I can remember about life
Are my regrets
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
It’s funny
It’s strange
What things you remember
And what you don’t
If you asked me what I said to my aunt
When my grandfather died
That had upset her so much
Four years ago, I wouldn’t know what to tell you
But I’d know I felt guilty
It was probably something
About how we all knew she was playing it up
For attention
Which she was, but I still shouldn’t have said
What I did
If you asked me for a specific memory
From when I was four
I’d tell you about how
A dog bite me
And I had to get 13 stitches
And how my mom bought me soda after
Which was such a treat
Because I did such a good job sitting still
So they could sew up the wound
I’d even tell you that I bit first,
Because my grandfather thought
I’d understand his sarcasm
When he asked
“What do dogs taste like?”
(Hint: I didn’t understand,
Not at all)
It’s funny how
I can remember the time when I was 6
And I believed full heartedly in demons
And my mom came home late
So I momentarily believed
A demon had replaced her
(Thankfully, I quickly got over that delusion)
It’s funny how
I can remember making my cousin cry
When I was 14
And she was 7
By locking her in the bathroom
With the lights off
As I shouted
****** Mary, ****** Mary, ****** Mary!”
Just to freak her out
But I can’t remember why I did
The things I have
I just remember the guilt
The guilt when I finally realized I could have
Seriously hurt the dog
And that she had been abused previously
The guilt of accusing my aunt
The waves of guilt
Crashing against me
When my cousin started sobbing
The relief of never telling mom
That I once thought a demon had
Replaced her
It seems
All I can remember about life
Are my regrets