Flashes of images,
of real life scenarios,
of a past that replays in my mind,
my memories.
Troubled is my soul,
or maybe the past is hunting me.

That street seems dark when I walk by,
but I can see myself bright in the distance.
Me and you sitting on the chair in the yard where you once lived,
and your arms wrapped around me.
The passion of teenagers in love,
that's the most trusted...