Your parents moved around a lot
I felt almost sorry for you, then
The concept of moving was so foreign to me
I had lived my whole life in one place
The same house, the same town
Not much changing, except a minor renovation here
A death or divorce there
And now, look at you
Living in a little box in my heart
Just another in a pile, like jenga blocks
Marked "do not open"
Taped shut, carboard covered in dust
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