I've dwelled in stories of the past so much,
The narrative is changed. It's out of touch,
Reality's distorted and I can't tell,
What's true or figment of imagination.
But does it really matter if it's changed or not?
The past is past for a good reason.
It doesn't matter anymore, cuz I am here,
Present, looking toward the future.
Image source:Pixabay
I'm not sure if I got this poem right. What does it say to you? Let me know in the comments.
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