They are here to stay
To remind you of their pain over you
To make you cry
To make you prisoner of the past
To minimize the success of your insignificant present
To make you trip and fall
To kill you innerly.
Nostalgia is an old girlfriend
You don’t want to greet on your way
But she always bumps into you
Like an inkblot painted in the sky
Like a sadness you want to liven up
But that finishes your strength up
And gets you drunk of sorrow.