The past for me is like a prison
Where the key has long since been thrown away.
But I want to be outside these walls
Where love, touch, and fresh air exist.
What are they like
For dim memories of them exist.
Exist still?
Who knows.
All I desire is to be free
Where long forgotten memories can rediscovered.
And have new memories formed
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
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