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You are currently viewing Remnants of an Old Home
where we once lived,
standing on withered grass,
remnants of the past.

ascent the rotted staircase, through overgrown bushes, enter the unhinged doorway.
a shabby place that you pass over. but this is all i know.
floral sofa in decay, softly, holding persistent odor, gaze out the cracked window.
a place in shambles that you ignore. but this is all i know this was once my home.
-Writing on Waves

Does your memory serve you well?
Upon visiting the old home, it is bittersweet to reminisce about what once was.

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