Reflection

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  • Philosophy

    Reflection

    Memories, strong and fading;
    Alive yet dead; happy but sad;
    Good but bad; warm yet cold;
    Memories: true yet all lies.

    I used to wonder:
    Who am I? Whose life is this is?
    I waited for magic,
    But only got shadows of people, of me.

    Did I exist? Did I live?
    Do you know? Do you know me?
    I am looking for signs of my life
    But it is all wilderness.

    Was I ever judged?
    Did I repent? Or was I crazy?
    Did I love? Or was I an outcast?
    Was I safe? Or always in danger?

    Did I unite? Or fall?
    Was I wise? Or but a fool?
    Did I sing? Or keep quiet?
    Was I loyal? Or did I betray?

    Was I sad, or happy?
    Was I angry, or helpful?
    Did I shine? Or did I fade?
    Did I listen? Or did I talk?

    Memories: strong and fading;
    Real yet fake; all but nothing.
    Memories: true yet all lies;
    Bright yet dull; loved yet hated.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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