I’ve got souvenirs
Of every stupid thing I’ve said
Every evil thought that’s entered my head
Every person I’ve hurt
Every broken pact
Every lapse of tact
Every flaw and every seam
Every lie and every dream
And every reason that I
Should give up, give up, give up
Every damnation, every laceration
Every mental conflagration
Every vile contemplation
Every fumbled conversation
Every neutralizing incantation that I
Said wrong, said wrong, said wrong
The world has moved on
The signal extinct
I’m reading messages
From weeks, months, years ago
Practicing necromancy
So I can feed the dead new lines
Until they get it right, get it right, get it right
I’m wondering why
my souvenirs
are
still
crooked
and
out of order
and
are you sure
nothing’s missing
nothing’s missing
nothing’s missing?
I’ve got souvenirs
All lined up
In neat little rows
But never neat enough, neat enough, neat enough
A museum of
Mistakes and regrets
Guilt and shame
Fear and pain
Maybe someday my collection
Won’t feel wrong, feel wrong, feel wrong