The Boy

My eyes look upon the newly painted walls.
And step on the freshly cleaned floor.
Things seems so much better,
time heals all wounds.
But what my eyes gaze upon is different from what my heart feels.

That same paint and same floors of the past are still there,
just disguised to make things back to “normal.”

As I inspect the new,
the old terrors rush to me.
Both repressed, and surprised dance in my head.
My mind receives no mercy form its self.

Clearly wounds are never healed by time alone,
Only forgotten temporally.

I’m torn to point it out,
I know once the allusion is acknowledged,
It will shatter forever.

But from that shattering, new life may form.
As the phoenix rises from the ashes,
Hopefully life will arise better then what the new is hiding.

There are so many things I could of done,
that were in my control.
And I keep kicking myself
For what is now,
just,
New.

I am the man, I am the boy,
Who says, and said nothing.