Your memories are like a jump scare,
They creep out of nowhere,
And think it's funny,
When they jump all over my thoughts,
As if they're on a trampoline.
Often, I sit,
Silently, in solemn situations,
Wondering from where,
Your memory is going to jump at me.
Often, in these moments,
I'm practically scared,
A lot before the jump actually happens,
Sometimes, I'm the one triggering them too.
But, you see,
It's like I've PTSD,
Or your memories
(If you don't want to claim the entitlement)
And I'm just a solder,
Protecting myself even when I'm safe.