My Old Life

I need a new life, one that won’t break.
One that will stand for the chances I make.
This new life is strong. It will stand from the crowd
And help me to yell all my ideas out loud.
But my old life is sad. It’s tired and old.
I can’t stand to leave it out in the cold.
So I’ll bottle my memories to keep my old self.
It’ll stay in a jar up high on a shelf.

I’ll keep it, but I wont ever look back to the world I’ve finally left.

The times get older. They wrinkle and age.
And with them it’s hard to crawl out of my cage.
This new life is a mask and I’m not who I was.
It’s not what I wanted, it's not for my cause.
My eyes try to shut and don’t shine anymore.
I’m picking up pieces of me from the floor.
I thought that they’d left, the thoughts of myself.
But I still keep them in a jar on a shelf.

Or so I thought as I picked up glass from the broken jar of the world I thought was dead.

It’s been seven years, but the jar has been fixed.
I keep the evidence in scars on my wrists.
My old life is now new and all that I live.
It just needed love, a home for a little.
I nourished it back to it’s previous state.
Then put a band aid on the tear that I made.
My eyes shine bright and my purpose renewed.
Who thought my old life was all that I knew?

I keep it, so know that I’m finally back to the world I wish I never left.