I once saw a festival with bright lights. They were beautiful, but frightful at the same time
My mom was with me at the time. She bought a tiny one for me to ignite and let it fly
I saw it high in the sky and felt joy, but it also felt like Niflheim
She now has a black eye
I apologized to her. Told her that I was sorry I directed it to her by accident
She said it was okay. That father sometimes explodes tiny ones too and they hurt her
She said: "Those tiny ones are not going to make a dent"
I admire my mom. So strong, but I wish she had something else to prefer
Time passes by, I grow up and my father still makes things explode by accident
I taught that he would be able to control it by now
But he and mom keep igniting bigger and bigger ones, doing me an abetment
Fill with black spots, I look like a cow
I ran away from home. That place feels like the festival from long ago
Explosions, lights, and that smell of bloody smoke
I grew up there, and I feel at home with those feelings that I know
The heavy atmosphere, in conjunction with the permanent black spots, blinded my eyes until my mind broke
Walking down the streets, I see that another festival is starting
I remember what I saw there, and I buy all the big ones in the store
It is time for pyrotechnics. Time for imparting
Explode in anger, until my muscles are sore
YOU ARE READING
Memory Fragments
FantasyWARNING: CONTAINS VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. Sooner or later, we all crumble beneath our fears. It's up to us to recall what makes us human and stand strong against adversity. Memories, shattered and scattered throughout our lives, come to us one by one.
