One by one my photos have descended from frames,
the color of my wall has changed,
my old crayon box has been given away to a needy kid,
my clothes, which could stay behind me as a remembrance, are sent to my new house,
my books, old greeting cards, cds, old letters, folders must have become
heavy on cupboards, or expanded, for they are given away to me, as well.
No, I don't mean to make you feel the other way.
Nobody wants you to feel a scrapped piece, I know.
Yet, I wonder, "is this a home feels like."
where you stop yourself from going to.
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