Sneaking into the most constricted part of our hearts,
Reminiscing the lost parts of our pasts.
When we were young, unaware, proud and beautiful.
But now we think about,
How did we lose people to time,
How did we win our identity from the nasty stains.
How do we accept ourselves, when we are not ourselves.
Nausea hits along with regrets every time we look back at the road we left behind.
We look ahead to see the ruins of our universe from what we've done.
But with our Head held high, heart ecstatic we walk.
Young, but years ahead of our mistakes.
Old, but years behind from our experiences.
No one is moving in or out from this game
Everyone's stuck in their head at night.
Everyone is suffering, either in hell or heaven for the sins they have committed.
Dying each morning,
Trying to survive each night.
Who knew the rope around the neck or a knife in the heart would be the redemption for some of us.
I Wish, I could say past is past.
But past is your present for now,
Past is in the mirror reminding you each morning.
Past is in your hands and in your tongue.
Your past is in your love.
Get lost in your mistakes for today and when tomorrow comes, make amends with the universe, people you've stabbed, your old self that you killed.
But now in this moment, in this slow painful night you deal with returning of your past.
******
Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.
-Haruki Murakami,
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Poetry"Cigarette or any other drugs don't nearly cause as much destruction as our thoughts do. So, don't leave them Unspoken" ****
