On a present past.

There is a tiny noise in my head
It is coming from a long way

It is dead.

It is a collection of recollections
Bits and pieces of a past
Assembled in one spot in my mind

Bits and pieces of a present past
That have not spend enough time in my brain
To allow for their fermentation
And fragmentation into memories

Shall they become memories,
I would be able to visualize them
Draw pictures of an altered past
That puts on a new dress, in my head

Shall they become memories,
They would become part of me
They would experience the present
And get nostalgic and make me cry

But they are not memories

They are just a noise

A tiny noise

Tomorrow, it will go away