shamrocks

Each moment holds a memory,
Each memory sacred to me.

I can remember when I first arrived,
Condemned to this world.
And I remember that I was different.

And every new year would be something new,
Would be something brought up for a day
Until that thing was taken away
and I would cry, and I would stay.

Each friend could hold a memory,
Each friend would walk away from me.

For every soul contains a fire.
Masked by truth, there hides a liar.

And every moment sacred to me
I could not touch--I could only see.

Painful lies held memories
Each was revealed as real to me.

Then sadness took completely over,
Tearing and shredding my four leaf clover.

And darkness seeped into my mind.
It deafened me. It made me blind.

Each moment held a memory,
Each memory sacred to me.

As my figurative life reverted to ash,
Into deepness and darkness I fell.

Thrown by a person. Another liar.
Another clover to burn on my pyre.

Each liar held a memory
Each pyre took that liar from me.

And by the time my life is over,
There will be nothing left of my four leaf clover.

There never were to begin with, though.
But I tried not to let these weaknesses show.

Each moment was just a false memory
And I've lost all that is sacred to me.

And yet nobody really cares.
Why do my tears fill their hearts with such joy?

Each tear will hold a memory,
Each memory, nothing to me.

They will crumble under graves of stones,
Their bodies withered, down to bones.

Each bone holds all their memories,
Each memory...nothing to me.

Death's ocean sweeps their lives away.
And here, I cry. For here, I stay.

--MRS '04