The Past
In times of loss, in throes of pain
We'd say we'd like to start again
Turn back the clock, rewind the spring
To see what a fresh start would bring.
Return at last back to the past,
Before the die of fate was cast...
But time has one small trick, you see,
We are what we have come to be.
Erase the woe, erase the hell,
Erase part of yourself as well.
Through joy and tears, for all those years
Our past's the path that brought us here.
Experience molds who we are,
Both tender kiss and battle scar.
This simple truth we cannot hide:
To kill our past is suicide.
There is no way that we could be
If we erased our memory.
We cannot from thin air infer,
Nor grow from things that never were.
What's past is past, what's done is done
A race that's lost is never won.
The question posed by life is clear.
Which pathway should we take from here?
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