Memories

Some things don’t change, Some people don’t either. Some days are wasted, Before they even begin. At times one thinks feelings Are better left forgotten. Can one help but think that? Can one help but remember? I say the important days in our lives, Are ones remembered, They contain a certain level of value, Or else there wouldn’t be a point. We wouldn’t have bothered remembering. I never said these memories were good, Just important, valuable. Just worthy of contamination, But pointless days and nights, Can go on for days and nights, Until memories are the only Thing which seems real anymore.