Inside my box are my memories,
not just any memories but the important ones –
sad, happy and mad.
Inside the box I have stories of each memory,
what I felt and what it was like.
That box contains the story of my life.
It started the day I was born
and to this day it is still going.
When will my story end?
That will be the day I die.
When I pass away someone will tell my story
and someone else will start their story.
When it ends, it continues, story after story.
No one knows when their story will end
but when it does, everyone in this room
will have their own story that someone else is telling.
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