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(Sometimes the past we remember is merely a figment of our imagination)

State of melancholy

Hatred for reality

A reminiscence of a past

Taken for granted yet romanticized

Desperate for an opportunity

To live in it again

A past created by daydreams

That never really existed

Patterns of dissatisfaction

Creation of an ego

Established then, growing now

Never satisfied

Is this reality?

Product of narcissism

Could this be reality?

My collage of distorted memories

Lack of contentment

Deprived of gratitude

Ever-turning inward

Nostalgia is my hell

Forever stuck in my fabricated dream

I have no joy now

I had no joy then

Regardless of what I tell myself

I dwell in this creation of my mind

Like a dream’s attempt at mimicry

I never traveled back but merely further inward

The faces mere sculptures

Devoid of humanity

The places mere set-pieces

With crudely painted backdrops

The nostalgic fabrication is a lie

For I choose to live in lies

Ever fleeing inward from reality

Welcome to hell