I don’t remember..

The kind of child that I was, I don’t remember.

The things that made me laugh and happy, I don’t remember them.

If I ever made my mother cry, I don’t remember this too.

Whether I was a fighter, stubborn and strong-willed.
I don’t remember.

If I listened each time I was reprimanded for every bad deed, I don’t remember that either.

If I had enough heartiness to intimidate the Adults, I don’t remember now.

But if we’re a mix and product of our yesterdays, why don’t I remember any of these things?

Why does their knowledge elude me?

Or perhaps, it declined with age?

New memories?


Pushed back behind my memory of colours?

Oh well..

It is not that I chose not to.

I don’t remember.

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