time has a way
of shaping the past
into a way we'd
like to remember
it.
we frame it
just so, using all the colors
that we need
to make it
right.
throwing out
what doesn't fit.
then we pound a nail
into the wall
of our memory
and hang it there
until the end of time,
and by then,
anyone that could contradict
our version,
our portrait
is long gone.
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