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