Hologram

A pile of damaged memories

Gets bigger every time

I think about it;

Cannot forget,

Cannot make it disappear.

All that is left

Is to set fire to myself

And watch it all burn with me.

Crimson embers,

So warm and useless;

Mixing with the images

And dead pixels –

Misunderstood?

Worn out?

Displaced?

I am the odd one out,

Faced with the aftermath

Of the repressed.

A cheap hologram

Of the last truths.

Do not intervene,

Let the embers turn to dust

And spread to others’ minds,

As this is the only freedom

That I will ever get.

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