Sketching the Past

The places of our past are ingrained Stop fidgeting, they won’t go away They long to be placed under lock and key To bring us more pain for we can see The power of the presence of their kind The unlikelihood of their passing by But their tower objection to be lost By the wayward intellect at no cost I cannot fathom their interest in us The power towards infection, lack of trust Leading us astray, but keeping us here Longing for the ways that we could steer Worlds apart, they don’t even start for me But paths delinquent, and spot on certainly Without much thought of their glance They don’t give me much of a chance Stop nagging, they intimidate my soul The play rolls on forever, it surely doles Out without suspicion, just self-reliant And every place it goes, I’m still defiant To this day the past remains in place Firmly – without even a way to escape It talks to me in my sleep, nightmares employ Lost upon my pillow, I do not enjoy Tomorrow is another day, filled with spite If I cannot rid my mind of this fight To be in the present without much thinking Of the past spelling the way out blinking Upon the grass weeds of horrors Nothing allows the timepiece colors In only black and white it moves forward Stuck in one place, as I move onward Russell Sivey