In Praise of Memories...

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The good. The bad.
He lives them all.
From the bunch of frames,
He admire that young face over and over.

The love. The hatred.
He feels them all.
From the glory of experiences,
The scar shines like the bulb in blur.

The life. The death.
He hears them squall.
From the depths of somnolence,
Life wants to rewind itself with whir.