Backward.

I like to walk backwards through a life less told,

Through rooms that have cobwebs from being so old.

I look over shoulders at days left forgot,

I shake my head slowly at memories for not.

I say good-bye to people easier than most,

Remembering them as you would a ghost.

Some say I have demons that hide in the dark,

I think I show them with an impersonal mark.

I have never been true to people or me,

I prefer to never let anyone see.

The masks I wear I hang in my mind,

Always at hand and easy to find.

For a time I was free and able to share,

Like a child acting out on a dare.

But as dares go they tend to hurt,

And leave you face down in the dirt.

So I walk backwards locking some doors,

Left to die on forgotten shores.

 

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