It’s so easy to allow the past to haunt us. It’s not so easy to let it go, or to write poetry for that matter, so here goes nothing…
Completely immersed in thoughts of naught.
That one word arrives uninvited.
The scar torn open and anguish reborn.
Once again my identity spited.
So much power it holds.
The moment gone by.
Yet I re-visit these roasts.
Fuel for this grief I supply.
My tormentor’s but ghosts.
I drink this poison and only I shall suffer.
Live and let live, return to the now.
Recall when you next wish to libel another.
This pain it may teach if you allow.
Well I’ll be damned.