Frame

Cheers of freedom—
 or could it be regret?

All I see now:
 a faint fissure
 of my mistakes.

Things I never wanted,
 erased from existence.
 Cleansing my skin
 of lies.

The violent winds
 are behind me.
 The days
 march on.

Only the memories
 of yesterday remain—
 a rush of thoughts
 in my head,
 of my being.

The people in the pictures
 I barely recognize—
 empty smiles,
 envy in their eyes.

I ripped them apart,
 saving a few pieces
 to remember, always,
 what I thought
 was true.