one empty suitcase,
and a room full of memories.
a couple of minutes to pack,
and leave my life behind.
split-second judgments
on the value of toys
and the importance
of things like clothes.
everything is a memento,
birthday presents,
fading faces in frames,
my chair, my window, my bed.
the last things i pack,
are the few last tears that drop
on top of a picture of my parents,
whom i'll never see again.
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