All wrapped up in
a pretty package, that’s what these memories are
That’s the way
they would like to be viewed
But, memories are
here, they are there, they are everywhere
They come in, and
turn themselves around
Damning the fear
We face them
Do we need them?
What do you offer?
A censored answer
They are yours, they are mine,
they are ours
The bow is tied, on the memory
package
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