On Past
The past, a ghost Etched in memory, stitched in time What if I could travel back And reclaim the peace, the happiness, the innocence that was once mine? I'd go back and have a ball And maybe attend that one missed call From life, from living, From smiling without reasons, From not thinking of dying. As I go back, all I see Is a museum of grief and Myself in the mirror Distorted to the extent that I'd despise Was it really me, or just another disguise? I say I remember, All I do is to reimagine The things that were never real The things that were never mine Yeah, I've been to the past It's a place that houses no one Only shadows that seem familiar Of the ones once close and dear Nobody's there to meet and greet Except the distorted version of me Places that once were familiar and true With garden of life with numberless hues Are now but the remains and ruins of you Watching you clinging To the things you think are due Past is that graveyard You put flowers at, we...