Elusive mysteries

The stories of the past

I was convinced you were gone

But you are still there lurking


Access it seems can only be gained through writing

What happened to make it so?

When pain became too much to bear

When sorrow refused to subside


Consequences became reality

Judgment forced to be made

The judge unequipped & endangered

A fire was started in the archives of my mind


A desperate attempt to destroy all evidence

If it does not exist, it can no longer cause pain

Mental arson in an attempt to protect myself

Leaving fragments of what was once so clear


Charred books in the disorganized library of my mind

Some damaged beyond repair

Some partially recognizable

Was it too high a price?

Or ruthlessly necessary in order to gain life



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