All these things I left behind
and i never want them back?
I am not sure that what I will find
won’t again just break my neck.
Past is the one to be left in the past
no need to relive the pain again
is forgetting what i need at last?
So the suffering wouldn’t be in vein.
What I have left there once
can not be separated from me,
I choose you for the last dance,
hoping this is the right place to be.
Past is part of the guilt, its cause,
to learn or abandon it is predicament,
I’m never healed , tight in it’s claws
with my tin of advices as a treatment.
Held between, still slowly getting ripped,
look in fron, my tear are drawn behind,
remorse is the weapon with which I’m whipped,
trying to run, even when I’m nearly blind.
Every step of the pat is covered with contradiction,
sometimes I feel like I am chasing my own tail,
everything merges and reality becomes a fiction
I pray that something is left behind to tell the tale.
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