We all have them, 

some hidden away,

some we know will always stay.

Memories are what make us,

who we really are,

some of them shine like a brilliant star.

Some are the truth,

some came from lie,

some faded from youth,

but some shall never die.

So what will happen when we are gone,

when life has hurried us all along,

memories of the past will be faded and wrong,

how will our memories remain so strong?

In records and diaries and smoke and mirrors,

we didn't run away our time was done,

the world was torn or obliterated or dissolved and now it's gone.

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