tripping back

i stand rooted to the spot

blank and staring into the void
the mind whirling in a cesspool
my finger on rewind


and the hourglass is turned upside down
time trickling backwards
the sand making it back to my fists
i hold tight once again


the past is once again with me
a brick of a dead weight
hard and unyielding and stupid and stubborn
happy and hurting at the same time


it's like holding a thorny rose
soft petals and bloody pricks
red of the rose, red of the blood
difficult to distinguish the two


i stand rooted to the spot
blank and staring into the void
holding a heavy past in the mind
hearing and seeing and breathing the now


and i choose to let go
i've been there and done that
all the good things and the bad
but there's a lot left to do


i'll be my past
and it will stay with me
but at the end of it all
i'll just be me