Time is passing in your photo album,
Flash by flash,
Another's smiles alongside yours,
Page by page,
I turn with fear and loathing.
Over and onward,
Frozen seconds burn my fingertips,
I picture a thousand more intimate,
Which the camera did not see.
Looking for faces which might have been me.
I am breaking down,
My edges are torn,
My memories are peeling away,
Victim of a life of turning,
Because the first page was too good to be true.
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