Through the fog of time, memories fade,
Selectively, they dance, a masquerade.
They choose the fragments, both light and dark,
A tapestry woven with a heartless spark.
Tenderness vanishes, like morning dew,
Only scars remain, vivid and true.
Forgetting laughter, joy, and embrace,
Selectivity memory breeds a barren space.
A weapon disguised in forgetful guise,
Tearing apart bonds with...
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