The past
By Fiona Cummings
Why does the past have a habit of creeping up on us
Sometimes with a fight and other times with no fuss
It’s like looking in the mirror and seeing the same face
Older and wiser, but putting you in your place
Why is our sun clouded over by the mist
Why live in fear of that evil fist
Looking around the corner at every chance
Wanting to run, but you’re in a trance
Waking up and finding
hope
Then getting tangled in that burning rope
Why does the dark find the light
Why is life, such a hard fight
I wish I could say goodbye to the past
Happiness comes and goes
The past is here to last
No comments:
Post a Comment