Broken shards of memories are forcing themselves
Into my fragile consciousness.
Memories? No, not memories,
For these are not people I know.
Not conversations I have had.
Not memories, surely.
But, still, not the products of my
Over-active imagination.
That would be different.
"Many things are difficult."
Yes, that is what I am saying.
Only...it is not me.
That is not my voice,
They are not my words.
And he is not someone I know.
Yet...he feels like a friend.
It is...disturbing, to say the least.
These memories that I have,
That are neither memories nor mine.
To recall what never was...
How odd it is. It never was.
Surely I was never so cold?
Never so harsh nor unforgiving?
Would I not remember that?
Truly remember, not just see?
Yes, I believe my imagination must be curbed
Before these...sights grow out of hand.
Comments
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.... ok I can't comment on this one...
WTF is wrong with you?? (Love you really, but your poems are starting to... freak me out a bit. What's going on??) -
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Ah, if only I knew.
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woaw this is insane! amasing write here Lily!
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