The Forgotten Seed


I must sever the link
between the memory
and myself.
But still I feel weak.

My clothes still reek.
My characteristics meek.
Still caught up in
your everlasting deceit. 

A feeling I don't want to let go
still I know It will never be so.
I must therefore let you know,
that from the experience I shall grow.

But still I weep
for the seed
I did not reap 
of that which we had sowed.


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