Knife
By MwsR
An old familiar song playing on the radio
Makes me recall things that I had forgotten.
Like a bad odor makes you aware that something has become rotten.
Stares from recognizable faces
That look suddely, then turn away
Takes me back again into those childhood days.
Words with strong deliverance and demeanor
Those are the ones that I remember the most.
Just like a parasite that infects its host.
Nothing like those pain filled days
Where my last choice was just to leave.
I felt like a prisoner just granted a reprieve.
In one childhood I was made
In those minutes, hours, and days
I found time slowly pays.
If in this life all you are is based on the actions of others,
You will never really have a life.
Don’t let your memories be the knife.
Mws R Writings 