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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