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Junkyard Box
Creating memories with a dimmed presence makes it more of a moment and less than a burden.
When you can’t recall the movement of yesterday, There comes a rigid voice,
Pulling you into the existence of today — now.
Ahead, but it all feels the same.
Whatever comes, success is the weighted way.
Fears can manipulate visions,
and at times, abuse the power of doing,
but remember, being late can always be erased.
You feel lost, but destinations never existed anyway.
We will rise again / aim for a better view above like the pyric sun; an enemy so loved.
Bringing light day by day —
attempting to be our warmth and danger all at once.
A delayed blossom is never shown;
growth has timing that will remain unknown.
We celebrate all beginnings and endings for a reason.
Living is defined as being in the moment; I say living is moving forward.
Dispose what’s been destroyed
Love what you know is a temporary hold; don’t look inside the junkyard box,
that life has passed you.
At times, we may feel misguided by the mistakes that weigh us down from moving into the next chapter of our life, but we must remember that temporary is everything. Permanent is a movement; an action. This piece showcases the confusion of being awake in the present due to the hoarding of guilt and shame that we can no longer allow to define us.