Persecuted for simple mistakes;
the folly of youth had been taken as fate.
The child's unstable, but that's no excuse
for letting herself be compliant and used.
The past is still past, though it may haunt you so;
for in life we must learn what to hold or let go.
She cannot accuse, for she clings to the past,
and carves ever deeper the scars that shall last.
So you torture yourself, and she does the same
remembering not what was said, but the names.
Imagination takes hold, fear claws your mind,
while the others, they watch your thoughts unwind.
Ah, the past can be fickle, the future unknown,
the present a trap we can never call home.

~July 10, 2013~
~ShatteredScribe~