Many things I have , many more I have lost, I sit pensive,
Pondering where these things have gone, how I lost them,
I do not know, they fell away, by and by along the way of life,
When I hold up the memories of these things that I lost,
Some make me sad that I lost , I look at my innocence , lost long ago, I
I hold up the memory of it so fleeting and pure, childlike in its glee,
It never asked for much only to be loved. I smile I put it away, next I
look at my other friend that I lost and miss childlike faith
Memories of fairies , dancing in the rain, bottomless puddles litter
my mind I smile again and put it away in my box of memories. But lo
and behold in the box as well, deep in the corner knocks darkly things, things
that I worked on losing but always seem to find their way back every time to me.
Funny how these things begin with self…. Self hate , self loathing, self doubt. I try to lock the box and keep these things from getting out but to no avail.
I have failed, I do not deserve , how quickly these things crowd my mind and heart and soul.
I must escape I must find my way back to the light, but wait one more thing comes to me from my box, Hope, I breathe, as I exhale hope lifts me up to see the sun again.