We are full of questions when we are young
Like a bursting gumball machine, experiences are plunked in our minds
Twisted with a shine
And out comes a polished pearl of perspective
Something for others to ruminate
And perhaps discard-
But a voice to color the world nonetheless.
Yet just as those machines often run down
Neglected and unused
With stagnant candy littering the floor
Of the empty glass globe
Like spent confetti-
We often forget the things
That once filled us.
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