Wild Flowers And Old Memories Poem by Jeremy Willson

I can still remember the ashes in the tray
I used to love feeling pain what can I say
It was the only thing I could sense on my body, on my skin
The smell of flesh and smoke in the afternoon
There was nothing better than a melancholy tune
The red circle afterwards that turned into a ball of scabs
It was nice, now regret hits me like a flurry of left jabs
Old memories are rotten fruit, they used to be ripe
Juicy, guess the taste is now a tear that I can't wipe
It's there forever a dear reminder that the world is bad
But I'm not too fretful cause I'm steadily not as sad
I hated myself before, I figured I'm a monster
And the world should concur
However, I'm learning to love, and to love myself too
Guess I'm a wild flower that budded and grew