Up and early in the morning,
Going through the thoughts in my head,
They keep me awake and restless,
My eyes open, and laying on my back in bed.
My eyes are a projector,
My ceiling is a screen,
My memories are like movies,
The ones I hope not to be seen.
But they all come rushing through,
Especially the ones I don't want to remember.
Times from season to season,
Times from January to December.
But once I go through them all,
And the movies are complete,
I rewind, pause,
And then press delete.
In a matter of seconds, they're gone,
Memories I didn't want to keep.
Now they're lost and forgotten.
I don't have to play them on repeat.
Just 'Rewind, Pause and Delete'.
~!~ Diana
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
A Poem Is Worth A Story
ПоэзияDo you think something's not real, A legend , a superstition. Did you ever want an answer, A reason, an explanation. Stories could be fake, People could too, But it's not in our hands, To define who's who. Like how a picture is worth a thousand word...
