The puzzle's always undone

In the end there's always a folder full of pictures 

you hide just to make yourself forget to open it again.

Letters that once had saved lives but

the words now lost track of who 

they're written for. Dreams shaking under 

the carpet from the cold fever of not
being able to become anything more but
dreams.

And you know, there always is a past

we chose to burn down to the ground. 

And so is a future,
In which a past like that
Has never even been a part of us.