To change the past.
That is the plea.
Of the many,
Who have failed like me.

Torment be gone,
From hurting hearts.
Anguish errased.
Unpuzzled the parts.

So much more simple,
life could be.
If it all could unscramble
And set us each free.

From our choices,
Now sealed in the past.
Forever imprinting,
Our days to the last.

A sensation of familiarity.
A hallucinogen.
A fantasy used to escape woes.
It's meaning has been lost to time, just as the scars incurred were errased.
All that "remains is an idea existing only as a myth"...

Elvito