lock

I keep them lock, my memories.

Every sin, every deed and every mistake.

I keep them lock.

I'll admit I hated the old me.

He was picked on, confused and was blamed for everything.

His friends at that point stabbed him where he stood.

Yet, in the honour of having friends, he kept quiet.

Used. Played. Mocked.

Yet I pity him.

As I read through my memories, archive by archive,

I saw this young boy who was ready to face the world; changed.

His confidence slipped away and his anger grew.

Hate and grudge.

That boy didnt write it down, but I could read though his bad grammar.

I remembered how he felt.

But in all his hate and in all his grudges, there was a child who wanted attention.

He wanted to be accepted. He wanted to laugh with the crowd, rather then laughed at.

O how foolish were you.

Yet you never gave up.

Out of that failure exterior others and yourself saw,

You accepted anyone's plea for help.

You threw your dignity, almost risked your education, wasted your money and spoilt your youth.

And at what cost I ask you, child.

At what cost?

For others, you lost yourself.

O how foolish were you?

How could such a cheerful guy became to that pathetic person?

At that point of time, I bet with you, you couldnt look yourself in the eyes.

O foolish child, I knew what you did after.

You stiffened your upper lip,

Hardened your gaze

And dusted the dirt that you laid in for so long, off you.

You locked everything away.

To your looks, to your smile, to your name.

Everything locked away; leaving a tiny gap so you wouldnt forget the essentials.

Again you had nothing.

But because you had nothing, the potential of gaining everything was open for you.

You had nothing to lose, because you didnt have anything to risk.

But does your memories haunt you at night some times I wonder.