Black Memories

Don’t we all have memories?

Tucked away in a corner

Like our childhood selves

Secured under the warm quilt

During the harsh winter days

When we didn’t want to wake up

Or get out of the warmth

That helped us forget

The Frosty wind for a while.

These memories stay safe

Behind the quilts of our minds

Like a treasure that we keep to ourselves

But often when the box opens

It’s more of a gift of Pandora

And secrets fly around

Like all the vices of the world

Sent on earth by the treacherous Gods.

Some memories are just black and white

Like a part of a badly written script

Which we quickly scribble over

To hide the ugliness of life.

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