Untitled

How do you know if what you remember is real?
If there’s a collection of thoughts, it makes it easier to heal. 
With just one recollection, there’s too much room for hallucination. 
Fantasy becomes reality,
Reality becomes a memory. 
Memories with clingfilm and a shiny slippery filter are like,
Fleeting question marks with deep and dark connotations. 

If something was just once, how does any of it make sense?
If something was so forgotten, how do you figure out what it meant?
Do you live in a condition where all you are is unforgiven?
How do you move on when the question sends you crazy?
When there’s so many different forms of maybe, maybe, maybe. 

When there is no answer, your mind creates a narrative. 
You become a collection of thoughts that eat away at your will to live. 
You wonder if maybe you were the cause. 
You consider if maybe it never happened at all. 
You decide that maybe there’s just something wrong with you. 
And that’s where the problem lies, the cause, the issues, the one to truly despise. 
You should have known, you should have seen, there is no maybe in this twisted dream. 

You should feel different because it wasn’t that bad. 
You shouldn’t even remember, none of this should make you sad. 
Because you are the cause, this you have deduced,
And in this life you are not the one who’s been abused. 

If someone was just once, how does any of it make sense?
If something was so forgotten, how do you figure out what it meant?
How do you live in a condition where all you are is unforgiven?
How do you move on when the question sends you crazy?
When there’s so many different forms of maybe, maybe, maybe?

Emotional