Someone said “The memory joy is a memory of joy,
But the memory of sadness is sadness, my dear boy”
My own memory is a double-edged sword,
As I never forget any single word.

I remember every insult, every note of disdain,
And trying to hide their hurt is so much in vain,
Till now I still recall incidents that caused me pain,
And every white cloud is a living proof of the rain.

What I am looking for is an instant microwavable history,
A chip, an implant, or any other device to alter my memory,
But you know what? I think I am sticking to my own inventory,
Even if there is a defect in me, it is beyond the expiry of my warranty.

Well, too late now; they should have returned me to the factory.