Who we once were

Broken pieces of our shattered lives

are packed away and forgotten,

like unwanted items in the attic.

 

Hidden inside a box that holds the crushed dreams

and un-kept promises, of more hopeful times.

 

Near the torn bag of trust and the other miscellaneous emotions,

which once held meaning in our lives.

 

How convenient to hideaway our mistakes and bad choices,  

to stow away the things that once gave us joy,

but now only collect dust on a shelf.

 

We live by the rule out of “sight out of mind”,

more willing to discard than retain,

easier to forget than to feel pain.

 

Only to one day realize,

there is no more room to store those unwanted memories,

and we are force to go through them, and remind ourselves,

of who we once were.

word_man's picture

you place those memories in

you place those memories in the good memory box,and hope to open it and make it all real