someday, you’ll forget about me.
your kids won’t know my name
because i won’t be able to introduce myself
to them in person.
i just can’t.
my existence will soon depend
on how you remember me.
and if you think i was a creep,
if i was a monster in your eyes,
if i was a bad person that they shouldn’t
end up being,
then tell them all the bad things i did
for them to grow as better people.
i will thank you for raising them right,
pulling them away from this path,
because no one deserves to go
through it again;
let your family hate my name
if that will bring them to wiser decisions.
someday, you’ll forget about my words.
none of these things will stay in your head.
i think that’s just how it works:
we replace bad memories with good ones,
and i’m just a bad memory.
i am like the demon in your glittery dreams,
ruining the scene that you’re temporarily
living, and i am sorry for doing that.
i didn’t mean to be a bad guy.
if someone told me where to go,
i could have been an angel instead of a
terrifying monster i am.
that’s why i want for life to make you
forget that you once knew me.
forget that you met me in this lifetime.
this terrible person doesn’t deserve
to be in the frame of your memories.
i might ruin the picture,
for i am always good
at doing so.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
