What is it about the past
that to destroy it we must
Every shred of evidence
of our existence
Every bean of knowledge
of our presence
We have to eradicate.
Each telling of a thousand words,
Each document of our unscrupulous deeds,
Could it be we detest our past
We sloth in the present
and bleakly look to the future?
Should sleeping dogs lie
or rouse them and snuff them?
Is it what we have done or what we did not do?
Missed opportunities in studies, romance and life.
Surely innocence and naivety
shouldn't be so easily dismissed
Such as teenage angst and strife.
Is yours the same?
Murder like no other,
death by past?
