"Curiosity killed the cat"
Is what my mother says
But I don’t have a cat, so I didn’t care
When I asked questions that shouldn’t be asked.
When I say things that shouldn’t be said.
When I open doors that should be locked.

Yet I peek through the crack
Of the door to my past.
Curious to see what awaits me when I step into “remember land”.
Because peter pan did grow up,
And never turned to forever.
So when the child opened the door
The young lady stepped into the room,
And the door locked.

"The past comes back to haunt us"
My mother tells me that as well.
But this ghost is a playful one,
One that’d rather play alone.
I know that if it's bothered it’ll turn violent and attack.
Yet my memories are all I have.
So often, when I’m lonely,
I open the door and visit this ghost.

I’m used to the pain it brings as a greeting.
I’m used to the silence that comes with the tears.
Yet I visit this ghost whenever I’m lonely,
Because deep down I know it is lonely too.
Curiosity didn’t kill the cat:
No one died.
Yet there is a ghost that’s known as my past.
It’s there, as a shadow since it is not here right now.
This shadow that follows us for the rest of our lives.

In the end, we feel lonely, but we have ourselves.
Our memories feel sad like us too.
So its okay to visit and hug them and cry.
From them, we learn and with them, we’ll die.