This is not a poem. but i've decided to change this into a book of short stories and poetry. ive been arguing with myself over whether or not to post this, so please give me feedback, what do you think about this? -Ash _____________________
Memories lost, crying for remembrance, stuck beneath the surface. How can I free them. I know they're there. But how can I remember something if I don't know what I want to remember. Memories fade in time, but I don't want this memory gone. I will myself to remember, beg the memory to surface, but it can't. It's stuck, just beneath the surface, smashing against the ice that is my mind. I let myself grow cold. I pushed the memories away, but now I wanted them. I wanted to remember. Every happy moment, every argument, even the sad memories. I wanted them back. Oh, the photo albums. Maybe seeing them will help. where did I put them... Oh yeah, they burned when I wanted to forget. How could I have been angry at him, my family. How could I have been so angry that I wanted to forget. How could his death make me want to forget him. It's not his fault he was sick. But in a way I guess it was a good thing I became so cold. Now I have an obsidian heart. Nothing can break me. I'm emotionless.
YOU ARE READING
nightmares and personal horrors
PoetryThis is a book of Poems, short stories and other tidbits. As the title probably suggests all of the content will have some sort of dark theme to it. Enjoy.
