SPILT
Long ago, I knew my life was not completely my own
Faultless I was not
But that was okay
We are made to play in the games of life,
Despite our will fighting against that
If I were faultless it would be a mistake
So I end up playing with my faculties in tact
Sometimes I stumble and take a quick look back
But that is not the most consuming of my life
It is when I want something that I am not to own
Like say, those that I loved in my lifetime
Those who I am now without
The ones who made me what and who I am
Those who would rather be a ghost in my life now
So see my life is stuck, kind of in a bind
Hinged upon those people in my mind
Life will not be my own until I release
The overbearing, lingering memories, and the real
Thoughts, that in this poem I spilt.
MwsR ❤