OPIUM

Memories are no less than opium.
At times when you are high,
Brings about joy momentarily fine.
When triggers the wrong nerve,
Directs you to the path you wished
Should have been relinquished.

There is no joy in living the bygone,
Or sorrow in feeling the forlorn.
There is no delight in shine of past,
There is no light in dusk of last.
But Sure there is the dawn that awaits,
Past where you stand today's late.

Coming Back to the tale of opium,
Indeed, it blocks your nerve.
The first instance you feel,
The high you carry
For the good you have lived.
But there lies the truth,
Most of lows you've carried.

How would you let go?
What was once toughest to live,
How would you relive?
The truth that you wouldn’t want to believe.

There indeed are beautiful relations.
There sure are kin emotions.
But where you stand
Was bit of a choice my friend.
Maybe a bit more need,
But who's counting the deed?

Memories are no less than opium.
You need someone/something/somehow
To get the first glance.
Once you do, there is no chance,
Somehow/Someone/Something
That'll take you away.
Rather mostly/highly/likely,
You drown, getting the way.
At times brings about joy,
Backed by sorrow's convoy.