Why my past is making fun of me again?
Is my past alive more than me?
Don’t we see it just in books of history
Here is not even any book for real
That have kept my past recorded
Still in front of my eyes
It shows up again and again
Even if I don’t want to read
My mind starts reading on its own
And can’t stop
Untill my breathes get entangled
Without known
Somehow get out
When reality is thrown