Memories.
There’s only two ways to view them;
They’re either a blessing or a curse, but only time will tellI;
It’s undeniable we wish we could only remember the good ones and erase the bad
But what good would that do us but only cause more pain and hurt
No one really tells of how memories cut just as deep and open old wounds
Where the line, between the memory
and the realisation you’ll never experience something like that again, is drawn
Then after how you start to wonder, are memories really a blessing
Or are they just a curse in disguise, that we’re too blind to see
So as one might say, memories, a sickly sweet term for nightmares
And a sense of comfort for those who seek it
no one ever tells you how those memories fade to dreams
and eventually what was once comforting becomes a nightmare
to relive again and again, over and over
Everyday until the very end.