Into my eyes you look,
But you never see me,
For I am not here!
My past is controlling me.
My past with all its pain and hurt,
My past where happiness could not take apart.
Memories are trying to thrash me,
They are soaked into my blood,
Since my childhood.
Now, I am tangled;
Can not step forward, can not go back,
Can not move at all.
It must be the middle of the story,
Which already had begun.
My fear says stay hear,
But my hope shouts; run.
Each holds an end, and I still
Cannot release myself,
Of that current chain.
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Comments about this poem (The past by inas essa )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(18 November 1939)
Edgar Albert Guest
(20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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