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Scattering The Past

Scattering The Past

 
On his birthday he rose an hour earlier than normal
He wanted to beat the early morning rush hour traffic
To a place where he spent a lot of his childhood
Good thoughts, pure fun, good feelings
To a place where he could feel those feelings again.

When he got there he sat in his car for ten minutes or so
Collecting his thoughts hoping for deja-vu
It was there he could feel it, thank god.

It wasn't a suicide trip,
A last look at his favourite places
But he was down as low as you can go
He needed a spark, a sign, a lust to carry on.

This was a service
This was a mass
This was D-day for him
An invisible urn holding all his bad thoughts and memories
Were to be scattered into the air
Scattering the past and starting all over again.

V Topp

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