The Memory Is Bittersweet
by Michael Doyle

I wish I could erase the darkness I have felt
That somehow, some way, I could escape the hand dealt
All the good and the bad that makes us who we are
Leaves me wishing forlorn on that semi-sacred star

There are apparitions in my wounded head
As I fear the ghosts and living dead
Echoes of the past and tatters of my reality
Have robbed from me parts of my sanity

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

This word can be evil, sensual, and strange 
As we follow the path of the sun and rearrange
The mysterious voices that fill the mind
Of memories that somehow cannot be left behind

I had loved her as would any true father
Fighting for her breath, she was my daughter
In the remnants of the world's harshness
We had pushed on through the world's darkness

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

We were only hoping for just a little light
It was not blindness that took my sight
Instead, it was the day that she suddenly died
Revealing the world's truth as a god who lied

My life slipped in a crash from its state of pride
I sat there agonized as I wept, unable to hide
The sense of inane loss that was felt deep inside
The likes of which I never wish again to confide

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

If I had done things differently
Maybe played by rules less reverently
My child might still be here
Instead of the walking dead that causes such fear

In this world, there are so many regrets
There is a reason that makes it hard to forget
I wish it were a dream, but it is real
There are times I wish that I could no longer feel

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

There are so many sins for which I must atone
I know that I can't do this on my own
With every sigh that I quietly take
I remember the passing of my every mistake

Blood for blood gets us nowhere
Looking around, I realize we're already there
It's a struggle to stumble through day-to-day
I've found my self-afflicted sorrow gets in the way

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

Post-apocalyptic haze fills my space of days
This feels more than permanent, no longer a phase
I've buried my child deep inside my pain
Every breath of air feels as it were in vain

In this world that drips with nothing less than folly
It becomes easy to fall in love with sheer melancholy
Deep into the darkness, I am left alone and peering
Lost in doubt and wonder, I stare alone and fearing

At times, life hands us stinging defeats
The memories left are strong and bittersweet
It's the sort of thing that tears you apart
It's the sort of thing that breaks your heart

(c) October 17, 2024   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved