Past
Long Present
Why is the past
so present in my mind?
Why am I forever
caught in this bind?
Trapped in the
past, it's a torture of kind,
Although this
sort of torture is not kind at all.
Down memory lane
these images are set,
A thousand memories
I'd rather forget
And a thousand
more which cause regret,
Yet my biggest
regret is living in the past.
A thought of the
future is a rare event,
This sort of hindsight
I know must be bent,
But I still live
my life only a fraction spent,
Too busy worrying
about what I should have done.
So upon my shoulders
grows the weight of my life,
All of my worries
and all of my strife
Forever compounding
until the scythe
Of the grim reaper
says enough is enough.
Then I will be
left with one last painful thought:
That my entire
life has amounted to nought
Apart from the
worries that I never taught
My wandering mind
to let die.
(C) Copyright 1999
CRAIG PARKES
All Rights Reserved
