Memories Compress
Memories compress,
In the recess of the mind.
Thoughts confined,
By the passing of time.
A shine dedicated
To a past divine.
The horrors expressed
So totally mine.
Waiting untouched,
A defensive confine.
Dissociated reality,
A false sublime.
Seen from above,
I’m left in a bind.
A fist is raised,
Told to stay in line.
Flashes of vision,
Pain a bright shine.
A hollow city,
Dysfunctional and blind.
Memory as a curse,
A picture of crime.
Cause and effect,
We’re both doing time.
It’s all guess work,
Just a twisted game,
Played against the self,
On the battleground of shame.
I don’t know much,
My brain is maimed.
Functional enough
To get itself tamed.
Forever questioning,
Looking to blame.
No way to win,
Just playing the game.
Victory is simple,
Just stave off dying.
Survive the day,
Then breakdown crying.
Because memories compress,
Forgotten with time.
Until you’re stupid enough,
To open your mind.
This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.
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