Mind

A tragedy is this that my life repeats itself.
My existence is to wish that life
Was a best-selling novel: exciting and TIMELESS
Mimic me in a falsetto. And oh, how CLASSIC.
AND I can feel the Eyes
NOW stronger than ever, piercing.
HOW could I possibly have ignored?
I SHOULD be a guardian of time.
For it is Iwho am always caught in
What I SAY is the Empire of Nostalgia.
THAT time that has since died lives so loudly.
How I wish I could banish it away to be fair to you,
But oh, my LOVE, it is an impossible feat.
How can you ask me to forget HIM?

“…or the ones they look over…”