She knows better
Of youthful days,
The stolen letter,
Which relays
In its fashion
Of cold words and pen,
Things without passion
Of what happened then,
When she was a child
Too young to recall,
Her daddy's wild
Rages, her mother's fall
From grace and sanity,
Over years of abuse
And old obscenity,
And overtime use
Of drugs and booze.
She puts the letter away
Without a word,
She would not lose
Her sense of the absurd
Whether of theatre or life
She'd be no man's slave
And no man's wife,
She knows better
What her parents gave:
It's all in the damned letter.
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Comments: 7
Hanging on to the past and projecting a future results in an impoverished present, as your words convey in a rather nice poetic style.
However, if "I as I think" is defined by such "solidified memories," as "that damned letter," to burn it to ashes would involve a degree of "self-naughting" many would rather not suffer, even though it would release the Power of Now.
Depressing too
And they can also teach us
What not to do
Another story well told.