Penning emotions,
In blue black strides
When confusion surrounds the eye
Storms engulfing
With waves of curiosity
Sandstorm of nervousness
A windfall of anxiety
The sudden apocalypse
The divination of weather forecast
Revealing the cherished self
A soul simply asks,\" who looks in the past?\"
But the past
Like a chapter of history
Has its own mystery
Finding the real you
You, who played with fire
Bloomed in a furnace
In wrath of flames
Not to brittle
But ever last with fame
Look back
You realise
You were curious
A voracious reader
A bubbly singer
A joyful dancer
Maybe a writer
Or a cheerful leader
Maybe a follower of Guns and Roses?
The past isn\'t that bad?