Hear Voices, See Things, All from the Past

Sometimes I sit alone,
And suddenly, I’m back there—
In a place I thought I’d left behind.
Voices echo in my ears,
Whispering memories,
Clearer than any daydream.

I hear them—
My mother's voice, calling me for morning chores,
My father's laughter,
The laughter that once filled our home.

I see them—
Faces I’ve lost along the way,
Old friends who drifted away.
They come alive in the quiet,
In the moments I least expect.

These voices, these memories,
They aren’t always gentle.
Sometimes they shout,
Accusing me,
Reminding me of every mistake,
Every failure,
Every dream that slipped away.

And there are the things I see,
Flashes of a life that feels like a different world.
I see my younger self,
Running, laughing,
A child who still believed in magic.
I see the places I lived,
Houses that are now gone,
Replaced by something I barely recognize.

I wish I could silence them,
Banish these echoes,
But they’re always there.
And maybe they always will be.

In a way, I’ve come to understand them,
These voices from the past,
These moments that return uninvited.
They’re part of who I am,
The fragments that make me whole.
They keep me connected to the person I used to be,
For better or worse.

Maybe I don’t need to silence them.
Maybe I just need to listen,
And let them be,
Accept them as pieces of the puzzle
That’s me.