A collection of accolades on the wall.
A row of trophies from yesteryears.
A folder full of certificates I never needed.
A list of accomplishments I wonder if I earned.
There is so much to line my shelves
And adorn my walls and yet,
When I open my box of memories,
I find I've only travelled when and where,
Where my books have led me.
Such a short life I question where,
Did I even live at all?
If you don't exist in another's mind,
With love,
Did you even... (I dare not ask)
Were you a part of this world at all?
