CSdiggydogart

The stupidity of it all: Tell the truth, I say: Dare to sneer this name! Thou dare to drag me through the mud; yet it's still not enough. Ye have mocked this family a last, I say! Now be gone, I will not have it: And return to us what rightfully belongs to this family: This worlds done wrong once already; Yet thou dares to repeat histories toils! Thou withered snack in the grass: Fallow thy pitchfork some where else! Dare not take another innocent, Or I shall sever thou forked tong from thy lying mouth! Now be gone, I say: Ye dare not return: Dare I catch thy withered face; I'll take that poker from my fireplace: And the burn

Why when we become older does our past hunt us more? Our dreams of years ago and the pain that hunts it: We think still of old rivals and what we should have said or done. Becoming enraged by morning dawn. But why? -- Why is it we can not let the past be the past? Is it because we can still see those taunting face? Or maybe we still hear those up surd whispers, Possibly those uncanny snickers. That is why our past hunts us. So I say you, forget! For when we forget and move on does ones past no longer hunt: And thus a new day dawns. "I wrote this back in 12th grade Oct.15, 2006"