The Past

March 5, 2010
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The past is evil,
Yet kind,
Depending on which memory,
Is called to mind.
Memories can be horrific,
Or terrific.
Which ones choose,
To allow me,
To see,
The joy of fear they once brought me?
Usually, it’s the evil memories,
That rain down upon me.
They fill my mind,
And cloud my judgment with fear.
My eyes can’t help but tear,
When I remember those days.
I hate it in so many ways,
And more than I can say.

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