If steps could have been quiet,
Or at least taken a bit slow,
These memories would have
Been remembered in the past.
Early mornings, late nights until 2 AM,
This was disguised as a cloud awaiting
For a false sunshine to rise;
All day long mops and brooms
Glided over friction floors
That grazed my memory.
Remembering hurts some nights,
A reminder of what hard work is,
A resentment of not knowing then
That now was built off of the fragments that fell from this fragile mind.
A memory played part to a murder
Of the sane, kind hearted, calm
Demeanor of a vigilant vigilante
Of the mindset.
Mind set on moving forward;
Yet backwards was the motion
Moving forward in smiles and weak faith,
All bagged together for the sake of
A pleasant experience for a new customer.