What used to be good and pretty memories now are painful and sting my head when I think about them.
What used to be something that made me smile -a scent, a place, a song- now are but triggers of sorrow and grief.
What used to be something to remind, to keep in thought, now are but things to forget about, and poor me if I remember them, poor me if I count the days for those special dates.
What used to be just places, just images of monotony now are remainders of that day, that moment, that phrase that ended it all.
What used to be dreams and aspirations now are but a grey cloud entering a thunderstorm, broken mirrors, broken stairs, broken promises, broken heart, of mine.
What used to be, what used to be.
I just want to forget.
What used to be something that made me smile -a scent, a place, a song- now are but triggers of sorrow and grief.
What used to be something to remind, to keep in thought, now are but things to forget about, and poor me if I remember them, poor me if I count the days for those special dates.
What used to be just places, just images of monotony now are remainders of that day, that moment, that phrase that ended it all.
What used to be dreams and aspirations now are but a grey cloud entering a thunderstorm, broken mirrors, broken stairs, broken promises, broken heart, of mine.
What used to be, what used to be.
I just want to forget.
I still want to forget.
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