As I drive home
I think of the three objects that once made me happy
Now give me such sorrow
It’s been a month since the incident
As I think of the objects I keep remembering
A rose that greeted me when I awoke
That rose stood up straight as if it was saying
“You can’t overcome this” I don’t listen
I got out a couple days after I awoke
I feel like screaming out
“Why me” for losing something so important
“I feel like a doll” I mutter
As I hear a honk
I snap back to reality
I swerve  back to a safe position
Driving as I think of my memories
They come from nowhere
They give me sorrow
The last object was my mystery box
I remember my mom giving it to me
When she was still alive
She gave me that box
Saying “When you find your story
Take the time to reflect”
I think of those memories
As I finish my journey
Years later   


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