I Still Love My Haunting Past

From the corner of my eye

I looked.

Trailing right behind me

as I followed fate

was my past.

Wrapped in dirty linen

and appalled mendacity.

 

A crooked hand

or two

had embellished my days

with a ludicrous (un) truth.

 

I became

the serenity of the ocean surface,

the trepidations beneath

unseen and unheard.

 

I carried on

slowly and steadily.

Rising above a distorted yesterday

and an irrevocable ordeal.

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