Only fools hold onto memories that hurt them so much.
Every moment you relive it, even if it was just a touch;
A touch that made everything thereafter feel like a sin;
A touch and memory that made you say the darkness would win.
'LET GO! ', 'BEGONE! ' are the things you want to shout,
but why are you then the teapot which refuses to open its spout?
You say you want to move on and you no longer want to be that fool,
if that's the case, wake up; darkness is using your memories as a tool.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem