The Impressions

I admire the impressions that memory create,
I resent the wounds that they make;
I admire the magic it contains,
I resent the scar it retains.
Memories give life to existence
it lifts the spirits of conscience
it touches the soul
and, subside the pain
yet, it is vague 
and, often inane(silly). 
I admire the relations we make in life
I resent the ones which end in strife
I admire the delight it generates
I don’t like the dullness it necessitates. 
Relations make us grow together
it lifts us up to oneness
it heals the broken self
and,rejuvenates soul from the strain
yet, it is uncertain 
and, often disdain.
Probably this is the last one………………..

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