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.