Learning to Forget in My Poetry Slams

In these ruins of me
You will see
A classic example
Of dreamer gone wrong

I started with a song
Born with eyes of blue
Blond hair a strawberry hue
You wonder if all the stories are true

Born a bastard
Always a bastard

Whispered words
Balled up fists
Make for haunting pasts

I’ll now take my leave
Wiping tears on my sleeve
As I recall my tale
The hour grows stale
And I begin to forget

But no one ever forgets
As the elephant trumpets
And all your past
Can be recast if you don’t learn
From all your scars and burns