The Superpower of Forgetting (Poem)

It would be a superpower to forget the messy past

All the beautiful faces that tore my young heart in half

The ones that opened me up and let me slowly bleed out

They made me feel so special and then left without a sound

And I was left to rot in a pool of my own black blood

Dying, cold, lost and lonely, feeling hopelessly undone

Another comes along and promises to fix the wound

Singing the song of the first, a familiar hopeful tune

Again I try, only to face the same horrific fate

They smile, lie, cut me open, and then run far away

So yes, forgetting would surely be a nice skill to have

Because now I’m covered in scars and I can’t take that back

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