My Own Mistakes

My own mistakes,
All my own.
The times gone.

Here I hold.
My mistakes,
A painful reminder, to be better.

To try,
To walk on,
Reminder of what I’ve done, been and gone.

Only trying.
Time for the being. Trying.

To reconcile and leave the past.
To remember.

A past so dark.
Afraid of my mistakes,
Trying to pass.

A world so far away,
The mind still stuck,
Pondering and summising.
Trying to make sense of a confuswd mind.

A calming sadness.
Pondering in futility,
There is no answer.
I need one, need to know, to think, to see.

And I try,
I fail,
Fail for trying,
Yet try nonetheless.

Writing this, thinking and pondering. The funny thing about this kind of writing, it’s a stream of consciousness. Where one sentence written may be contradictory to the next, or even be made redundant by. A mixture of confused thoughts, trying to make clear, to find an answer in the sea of thinking. But it doesn’t clear. But still I try.