Ceremony of the past we skipped
The eulogy of it we never read
So here we are, living with the dead
That sickly past
Its death came and went with the sun
When they said to bury the past
We were too afraid to let go
As much as he had held on to us with warmth, his stare was cold
Surprisingly we always never forgot his cold stare
But that was what made him seductive
When he touched us with his pain
It turned into a pleasure
Indeed it made us hate the present
But that hate drove us past the pain
A thorn in our hill, we used a thorn to remove
In a manner, as long as
The dead cold past held into us
We were always the victims
We were never wrong; they wronged us
After all, the past never favoured us
As if we were not the ones who wrote it
As if it was lived by someone else
As if it was not our choices and decisions
But time is a comedian
When you bully the present
The past comes to hunt you
When you fight the past
The future smirks at you