Poem 2: Yesterday

(This poem was generated by the Three Things Challenge:  Click on this post! )



My past is forever a brick of a wall

and forever it will stumble

with an exploding heavy boom

one by one, every bit will tumble.


My past is forever a family of fireflies

that dares to light up my eyes

with broken whistles and welts

all these nights, all these lies.


My past is a melody of a broken album

that is played with a heartbreaking strum

and with the tunes of disillusioned tears

that melt with the beat of each drum.


My past is a forgotten fantasy.

No one can hear the bouncing of balls

the ones we followed with a frolic

and our shrieking shouts and calls

that are forever gone

where the wall has been torn down

and each bright harmonizing smile

has turned into a frown

and a city

has disappeared

behind the cracked clouds.