some are cursed to forget their memories,

so fleeting on the wind

but I think my curse is to remember

all the good and all the bad

all of the laughter floating from my friends lips down the hall

all of the tears spilling from my eyes,

white-hot against my cheeks and ice-cold within my soul

I am fated to remember

and I think that's why I write

to channel the joy and channel the sorrow

in turning the bittersweet past, striking like thunder, 

into a softly falling, welcoming tomorrow