But never put your faith
In your memories.
Oh! For they are but fragments
Of little lies,
Shades of white and gray,
And all the colors of the prism.
Transcends as anamnesis
Of how you want to remember
The things that happened
And how you wanted it to be.
Altering the history
Of your own version of stories,
Tales of folks
Created by your reverie.
Your memory is a poison
Forging its way as an antidote.
From lies to becoming your beautiful truth.
Your fallacious beautiful truth.