Nostalgia

Nostalgia

I look back and try to feel,
The way I used to.

How I used to look at them,
And how they looked back at me,

With kind eyes,
Yet their smiles were complacent.

Over what,
I never figured.

But I now have memories,
Of the crimson beast,

That tore from,
My legs and stomach.

Now all the sweets,
Treats and treasures,

It's all ever so sour.

Their blood is in my veins,
But I don't want such impurity.

I tried to end my sentence,
With a pill or a drink.

In those clauses,
Every piece of punctuation could have been a full stop,

But I wasn't scared,
Because I thought no one cared.

If you fell they would ask you where it hurts,
You would point to your arm, maybe your knee or elbow.

But you notice now as you get older,
If you fall, they don't ask you where it hurts.

You sit silently in your room,
Waiting for them,

Pointing to your head and your heart,
But no one helps you make it better.