“You don’t live here anymore. So why do you visit me often? Is the instant essence troubling you? Or is the on going rebellion reminding you of me? I’m not a place where you can hide, nor a person who could console your sadness. I’m a teacher, a guidebook. I’m already with ink, but I will never stop writing. If you learned you wouldn’t have to come to me. Oh my brother, at least think of me when you decide next time.
I’m a room with a locked door; the key in your head. It’s up to you to decide, if you reveal me to someone else. Don’t blame me for being wrong and bad, while you praise yourself for all the good and smiles. I’m your history, your past that you designed. Be responsible for me, when you create the rest of you. Because the regrets and sorrow rebels against cherish and happiness.”
Written by W. A. V. C. Fernando