I’m from little chipped blue coffee cups Heart covered ceramic plates. I’m from the dirt pit in the backyard Wasted hours and toys. I’m from the shed, trapped, waiting in a hail storm Holding onto big shaggy dogs. I’m from the little green Tonka train Riding through the house I’m from the church sinners now Entire family packed in. I’m from the sound of open fields Wind blowing leaves. Yet I’m still from the crowded streets Walking home alone. I’m from the empty house Microwave dinner. Now I’m from the crowded apartment Filled with dolls and make-up. I’m from the bad father Only lesson was how to be a good one. In my room is my staple, my lifeline, my jukebox, Filling the house with happier times and sad memories Carrying on the party for everyone else. Memories talk and tell you all about a person and where they come from. The tiny small memories are always the ones that can tell you the most about someone.
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