Dear repressed memory.
An off shoot
A branch of a memory that I cannot uncover
Don’t call me Christopher Columbus
Because I search and search
And dig and dig
To end up empty handed.
Call me Juan Ponce De Leon
Because I’m lost trying to find the Fountain of Youth
But instead I’m trying to find the Fountain of Truth
Because I don’t want this to control me.
But it is.
Because when it hits,
The world keeps spinning but I stop so I get dizzy with circular motions
Centrifugal forces around me accompanied by voices
Telling me to ‘get over it’
Only those are in my mind
Because how can someone so scientific and calculating
Reason with the psychological.
Reason with this,