Memories

A Poem by Poe

Memories

They say, that every man bleeds just like me,
Which makes me wonder, why do I bleed?
I feel like I’m last in line.
Always being passed and forgotten.

I am but a memory,
For those who care to remember.
When they forget of me,
What will I be?

People don’t know,
About the things I say or do.
No one knows the crap I’ve been through.
That is all but a memory.

I awoke from a dream.
Cursed to live a nightmare,
Living someone else’s nightmare,
A nightmare? Yes, but just another memory.