The Tyranny Of Memory
Memory is a merciless master;
commanding my rapt attention;
focusing on my every disaster;
while hiding in another dimension.
Memory is never seen; nor heard;
but makes its presence known;
despite seeming somewhat blurred;
often appearing when I’m alone.
Memory often has hate on its mind;
poured out on me by another;
its guidelines are rarely defined;
like thoughts from a jealous brother.
Sometimes it appears as a conscience;
defining what ought be my role;
other times, it seems utter nonsense;
an enemy, attacking my soul.
Often it takes a subtle approach;
reminding me of love I’m missing;
ever so gently suggesting reproach;
while still, my actions, it’s dissing.
Memory never misses a chance to gloat;
that good things of past are now gone.
I almost feel that memory’s my moat;
keeping me on an island to live on.
As I approach another December;
there’s much I’ve come to regret;
It’s not that I no longer remember;
it’s those things, I cannot forget.
Monty 8/12/21.