Somewhere in the shadows of a long and distant past.

Somewhere on a photograph in a box where lines are fast.

Somewhere there’s a younger me and there’s a younger you.

Somewhere staring blankly in that fashion where I grew.

I never held the savvy just to smile and talk sweet.

The truth was getting in the way with a lack of how to greet.

I remember all those demons and how they danced with you.

I wasn’t all that welcoming and I never had a clue.

Memories are a funny thing, not all those things are great.

It’s funny how we all look now and the hour it is late.