The past will stand its ground, but the present will move out of the way, propelling you forward. Learn from what was, and mold it into something better.

The past will stand its ground, but the present will move out of the way, propelling you forward. Learn from what was, and mold it into something better.

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
I don’t like being asked questions about my past. Because it’s in the past where I’d like to leave it.
A day is but a speck
one holds and blows away
with one breath
then on to another, come what may.
The past is but a shadow
following all with lingering breath
and hard to catch
to try and change, what is next?
Looming—-
in the shadows of time,
skeletons of a haunted past,
like Satan’s fury—-
they test and tease,
taunting and afflicting until he’s pleased.
This plaguing past that will not die,
shall eat me from way down inside,
it travels—-
flamed obsession—-
My head it whirls and twirls about,
it stalks my smitten soul,
I try to rid these tentacles of time,
but still it slithers—-
there it lurks—-
a staring stranger,
forcing, reaching, grabbing, glaring—-
I’d like to think the past is gone,
but still—-
it shall remain taboo,
always there,
can never undo.