I can't read the poem anymore. I skim over it knowing what it holds. My past rolled up into 45 lines...it makes me sick. When I first wrote it I loved it. It was my way out. A great relief to be able to eject part of the pain. I hadn't written poetry in a while. I felt it was absolutely beautiful. Words that told everything in my favorite form of expression. Something I could share with others or hold for myself. It was any easier way to let people know what happened. Just bring out the poem and they start to understand. But I can't read it anymore. I don't want to relive "The Memories." The words no longer help me deal with the reality of what my life has become. What I am forever running from. They just remind me of the misery that followed. I want to move on. I need to become fresh and new. Something different. Something better. I want to be me again, because who I seem to be is not really who I am...