The Past calls out from it's black void,
Singing the words to a forgotten lullaby.
The past is suppose to be a lesson,
That teaches me to not make the same mistakes.
It's suppose to be a story,
I tell my future kids.
It's suppose to be a gift,
I cherish in the back of my mind.
Saddly, that is all the things the past isn't.
The past is my punishment,
It beats me down until I am broken.
The past is my tormentor,
It doesn't let me forget all the damage I've done.
The past is selfish,
All it does is take and take,
Until I am have nothing left to give,
Even then it asks for more.
The past is my shadow,
It won't leave my side.
Everyday it whispers in my ear,
To remind me,
That I cannot hide,
The truth from myself.
The past take me as it's prisoner,
Refusing to set me free.
When it turns me into a coward,
It laughs at the thought,
If me once being called brave.
I struggle to get out of its grasp,
I fight to become free at last,
I cry when I know I've been defeated.
By my unforgivable past.
The past hurt me,
In a way no one else can.
As much as I'd like to deny it,
The past won't set me free.
YOU ARE READING
Tolerant
PoetryIt's just poems I wrote. There are mostly about life and things I've learn or feelings I once felt. I hope you enjoy reading them. Also the poems are tributes to people who have gone through some tough things.
