Florida

Well here we are again – with the box back at our door.
No matter how deep we bury it, it always returns once more.
Our story turns to stories, starting from around age eight,
Just trying to forget the bad, we forget our whole darn plate.
Don’t speak of private sins, for private they will stay,
We try to ask for help, but are mostly shushed away.
Fleeting moments of the past, leaving only scars for me.
For I do this to myself, these tortured memories.
Wrong choices made by naïve pubescent minds,
Result in violated lives and never discovered crimes.
There were no evil-doers, yet evils were done and left their mark.
Pissing on our inner fire every time it tried to spark.
Well the kindle will never smolder since the source is from I AM
When the whole world seems against us; He helps us stand.