Why it sometimes sucks to have a past

There's a dead man under the floorboards of your heart. You didn't kill him, that was his own idea. But you didn't help him either. And he rolls a little with each heartbeat as he lies on his back under the floor, and his arm waves like he's calling you to him. But it's only a reflex, and it doesn't mean anything. On the good days you never think of him at all. On the bad days it hurts so much you can't look in a mirror.