Thursday, November 12, 2015

~I am your museum~

I don’t look like my mother; 
Not even the least.
Yet, I am she.
Her habits are mine,
so are her joys, her fears,
and to some extent, her beliefs too.
Yet, I do not resemble her.
I just bear her.
Like a museum,
where the remains on display
are not even vaguely
like the original organisms,
yet, remain preserved.
So is my mother.
Preserved in pieces, within me.
And so are you all my loves
who have touched my life
In an unforgettable way.
I bear you all.
I am your museum.

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