The pain of confusion, <br />The questions within your delusions, <br />And the unjust of your reality. <br />The pain in the illusion, <br />The emotion a baiting infusion, <br />Of a past been formality. <br />When the world excludes you, <br />And you let it. <br />When it bears down and makes you blue, <br />It is an odd comfort which, in pain, dose fit. <br />You drench the past in gasoline, the match lit, <br />And you know what to do. <br />Rip out those pages in your book and start a new story, <br />One not based on the memories of the past, <br />Write of new pains, and new glory, <br />And make the moments worth remembering, last.<br /><br />Poet of the River<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/don-t-make-it-last-don-t-dwell-on-it-thought/
