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The Past

It mocks us now, just out of reach,
as its mystic lessons it claims to teach,
of mistakes once made, thrown out in taunt,
It’s lessons not teach, as much as they haunt.

Try to out run, we are not that fast,
it stays with us, till we breathe our last,
these things stay hidden until our graves,
to be buried with us in manmade caves.

Apologies only seem to justify,
its twisted need to make us cry,
The past is never to be out run,
it stays with us, never undone,

So be careful now of the things you do,
from now till death they stay with you,
because regardless of the forgiveness gave,
to our histories past we are but slaves.

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