Old Records

Skin and hair and nails shedding, disposing of their past selves for the new and improved, But the brain and heart are much to prideful, Clinging to so much that does more damage than good. Storing the refuse of pain and betrayal, Hoarding insecurities, Collecting bad memories like old records that pop and crack and hiss. Playing those old worn out tunes that time has tried so desperately to fade. Though the song is garbled, we know it word by word and sing it much too often. An unconscious humming of self destruction. Each day life composes a symphony, yet we remain hooked on the ditties and dirges of days gone. Jingles are catchy but don't get caught. It time to sing the tunes that make your heart swell, the tunes of triumph, the movements that actually move us, and don't forget to dance.