Flashes of light,

images of things

from my past

Forever haunted,

and followed by them

stitched into me

Indented into my dna,

I rediscover them all

I am become them.

Memories play on broken reels

Skipping forward and rewinding

Gritty images

some out of focus

Others crystal clear

Snippets

Edited together by a lazy brain

Who cannot find the missing pieces

though it searches

Strains then replaces

With something more beautiful

Forgetting and enhancing

Surely it wasn't that bad

Memories that are partial lies

To hide the truth

My brain denies

In the end it's okay

Because my brain makes it that way

Like a written story

Intangibly seen

And forever changing

As the days pass

The building blocks

And sound foundation

A symphony

Of senses

Without the memories

than exactly who would we be?

And what would we feel

remembering the bad things

is like reliving them.

remembering the good things can be sad,

because I'll never get to.

but remembering the bad times

is better than forgetting the good ones,

because your experiences are the things that build up

to make you a person.