My past still tuggs on me
like kites tied to my heart-strings.
Often they go unnoticed
but occasionally there's a gust.
I'm no puppet,
the tugging can't make me dance.
And yet, I don't have the power
to cut the strings.
Sometimes I think I want to,
and forgetting seems the best course.
But those who forget history repeat it,
and I'd rather occasional reminders,
than living through the pain again.