Iron grip
30 April 2008 02:09 PM Categories: Parents
| Childhood
hangover
I'm gripping the past
with both hands now, pulling it into the present for
a final showdown.
Or is it gripping me, pulling me under the water's surface?
The past may threaten, may flash a set of phantom fangs when I tell it to go away but it isn't really coming back. Time goes forward, never back.
But sometimes the past is as present as my own mind, and it is up to its same old tricks. Sleights of hand and feats of illusion.
Or is it gripping me, pulling me under the water's surface?
The past may threaten, may flash a set of phantom fangs when I tell it to go away but it isn't really coming back. Time goes forward, never back.
But sometimes the past is as present as my own mind, and it is up to its same old tricks. Sleights of hand and feats of illusion.
Why do I still talk to you almost every day? Why
can't I just accept you for who you are and get over
it already? And then I get out the family pictures
and realize how young you were. I'm sorry.