Living in the fog of old ways in the present days is like living in the dense smoke of second hand cigarette smoke. Inhaling burned tar without the euphoria of the exhale and release. Just stank stale smoke clinging to the cotton of first worn clothes. Smoldering bad habits that pile like buts of true smokers.. The lingering smells that never seems to truly evaporate. You no longer carry the fresh packs in purses or pockets.. But the stigma remains. Memories remain piled high in locked closets of brains you have since made amends with. Stating your wrongs, apologizing for the effects of your mistakes. New frames, new takes, down lists of names. Heads nod, lips move with declared understanding. Each day creating new memories that shine with bright intentions and better outcomes.. Yet that fog hangs around your name, your face. You want to emerge from it born anew, but you can’t erase your face, your name it still remains. You arrive changed, your thoughts rearranged with new list of to do, for you. They see you still stained by old moments, old ways. We pray each day for another chance, yet at first glance we still look the same. Can’t blame a memory that doesn’t fade. Even if the price was paid. Restitution applied with time accumulated of perfect days.. Will still just be an ornament of present with the precedent set!