Living at the edge of a forgotten city,
Experiences become remnant memories.
Going down withered memory trees,
Roots of the mind spreading thin.
Do you have a moment for the moment,
Opportunities roll by like movie reels.
Looking through a glass prism,
Visions like changing color wheels.
On the top of my memory shelf,
There lies a dusty book titled me.
It's as old as earth covered gems,
Tales of the forgotten self.
Beyond the green screen of Illusion,
Memories drop to my forgotten ocean.
Like a motion film on a budget,
These little moments, My deleted scenes.
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MIND'S PRISON
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