Too proud to let you see it suffer,
Ashamed of its own weakness,
Of having done so little,
Afraid of being in the way.
It drags its broken body across your door step,
Disappears into the busy world.
That is why when you turn ans say ;" whatever happened to thosedays? where did they go?"
No will answer.
No one will know.
What we call memory is not the thing that left too strong an impression,
But the moment that was too helpless to get away.
Hey very nice indeed. Brilliant thought.
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