Bad old times

I spread all the photographs on the floor
they look at me
and tell me that there’s something I should’ve done
differently

I finally see the looks on your face
they gradually went
from total joy to numbness of self-defense
and bitterness

Who took your head under?
Drained your oxygen?
He’s still in your brain
giving orders
and playing with your life

I cannot believe how much was imagined
and aggrandized
was I the only one to see colors
in grayscale life

I shred all the photographs into pieces
just to make sure
to never again get stuck in a memory
a dead moment

Who took your head under?
Drained your oxygen?
He’s still in your brain
giving orders
and playing with your life

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