Memory (a sad poem)

Memories I wish would fade never seem to go away.
The good times I tried to find aren't where I filed them,
Yet the horrible times fill my mind so I can never escape them.

Every time I think of them I die a little.
I feel like putting a bullet into my (seemingly) impenitrable heart
of steel.
But it's not there anymore - 
It's been misused, stolen, broken, vandalised and drained...

The foul stench of my own blood dripping from my own heart
Is, oh, so familiar to me.

January 2001