They tell me to forget my Past,

They say memories are not meant to last.

But I remember my best self with and without tears,

Buried deep within the chapters of yester years.

Hope was a constant companion, 

I was a rockstar, a formidable champion.

Now I am told to just continue onward,

The Past was a lesson not to carry forward.

How do they expect me to rise from the ashes

Denying my true origin, my memories spark in flashes.

My strength is depleting so terribly fast

You see, I am afraid I am not going to last.

I would tell Maya Angelou, to listen to my tormented whispers,

My soul is torn, my heart is full of blisters …

I am too sick to be angry anymore.

Too numb to feel happy once more.

I wonder if she would have felt sorry

If she knew me and my untold cryptic story …

Would she have fallen silent again?

Or picked me up to fight another day, maybe another way?

Sometimes those who speak softly

Are often the ones who are the strongest

While weak are the ones who shout the loudest …

With an air of superficiality and an air of lofty.

The world has a habit of being lost

In the noise and the incessant lies,

The soft chants of prayers get drowned

 In sounds of Evil’s false cries.

The Past keeps a record of all that was good and all that was not

My wounds are still raw, please touch me not.

Lessons are not learnt in the future I say …

The Past warns and the Past lights the way.

The Present is always in a hurry to leave,

The Future will always be out of your reach.