Box of broken Memories

It's almost human nature it seems,
To keep all your memories and dreams,
Enclosed inside a special tomb,
Of sacred memories and gloom.

Its that old shoebox hidden beneath your bed,
The one with notes for years you haven't read,
You've tried to let the dead bury dead,
But the memory is lurking in your head.

You dig it out and dust it from time to time,
Look at the memories tragic and sublime,
You begin to sift through your broken past,
Considering most of the memories trash.

Old love letters from high school flames,
Pictures with her in dusty frames,
Notes from old buddies; your friends and pals,
The check yes or no's from elementary gals.

Your entire life stored in a box,
Everything down to your collection of rocks.
You think of setting it fire or throwing it out,
Just useless memories none care about.

But instead you just put back the lid,
You simply stow it away and keep it hid.
You can always look back at that gloomy past,
And build a bright future on its foundation to last.

The box of broken memories can hinder and haunt,
It can push you around shove you and taunt.
Or you can use it to Spring forth instead,
So just keep it in secret under your bed.

(c) 2012 Lemon Squeezy All Rights Reserved.