I've cut my life to half it's worth,
never I've ever remembered about my birth.
I wasn't there when that moment past by,
never was I seen in a babies eyes.
Half the worth I came in late,
no birth just jumped in straight.
Took control and since then I live,
this body I have was free to give.
Empty shelled blank staring eyes,
stuck here till it passes, it dies.
Still, I forget half of what I do,
half the value of memories to review.
These thoughts again I digress about,
the thoughts my memory shares I spout.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 7th, 2025 11:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
So true how few the memories before we could speak. Memories have language keys that unlock their vault. I have a few snap shot flashes of memories from when I was just a toddler confirmed by those that were there at the time but only a few before age four. A wonderful poem
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