The leftover

Do not look to the future. It needn't necessarily come. The present is now, whether you like it or not. Disbelieve what smart people tell you Past is the only truth.

The past is yours, yours alone, Undeniably, unchangeably, Indelible, burned onto your brain, Scarring it forever.

On a summer morning Shake it all down on a mat, Lay it on the sun, Warming, Watch it turn brittle, Shrink and twist, Matted with dust. Hunched, on your haunches, Head propped up by hands, Watch it curl and shrivel.

When night falls, Gather them - The leftovers of your life.