The unknown was what we lived in
No memory of it but we did
Our time may have been cut thin
Then randomly we became kids
When I was 3, I had my first memories
Pictures of the things around me
Things I’ll remember for centuries
Snapshots of what I used to be
Is this place even real?
When I touch… do I feel?
When I die, will you be there again?
Another dream written by the pen
I question who holds the quill
Is it me, or against my will?
The answers only stand in the unknown
There, all answers will be shown