The distant memory of a past sunny day is getting lost in the sands of the time.
It is mixed with older ones, turned, altered by a needy mind.
The memory now feels new, alien. It feels impossible to have happened, yet seems so real, fooling every trace of common sense.
It buries itself deep inside, planting a seed for a blooming web of lies.
Of my lies, made up to overpower the painful memories, to overwrite them...
and i don't know if I could live without them.
I've been playing lost and found with pain and sorrow, just to throw them away for make believe nostalgy and artistic melancholy.
Old memories die hard and live intensely, and they burn together and rebirth into what the mind desires most.