Selective memory is a curse
Only the good things stay in my mind.
The bad things,
The hurtful things,
The things that scarred my soul,
Are discarded by my Pollyanna psyche.
I am living proof
That if we do not learn from our past
We are destined to repeat it.
I live in this real world
Asking to be fucked with
Over and over again
By the same people.
As if, the next time will be different.
As if, they changed
Because I brushed their selfish behavior
Into the dustpan
And discarded it,
So that it wouldn’t hurt me any more.