Monday, January 4, 2021

Incomplete

What are we but stories -

some told, some untold

and some lost in between

chapters, as they unfold.

 

What are we but memories -

some happy, some cold

Some lost in grey zones

in between them both.

 

From chapter to chapter

we move in hope

that the next one will be

different from the old.

 

We chance upon an empty page

To fill in, there's plenty of space

Only to realize, the ink is up

An unfinished work, we'll remain.

 

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