Narrated by Everyone but You

The past is a jumble of memories, but none of them are mine.

When I think back,

Every memory I've had,

All the good ones, the bad ones too

None of them feel like they're mine.

It's like watching a movie;

Where I'm in every scene

But never the narrator.

I plead in my mind that people won't forget me.

But I think I've already forgotten.

Author's Note

Anything is up for criticism really. This is more of a personal text, but I'd still like to improve my writing all the same.