(This is a poem I wrote on the evening of my last day at a summer camp.)

[S T A T I C]

I remembered what I wanted to say
But I left without a word
Returning to the static
Or is that where I came from?

This page seems too short
For everything we’ve felt
It’s just too much effort
To fill an entire book with static

Like a dream, it came and went
Cool breezes and ice-cold wind
A warm blanket and a burning sun
I don’t remember a lot, except for that one star

This poem will come to an end
The static will consume it and
The memories will burn into paper
I’ll never forget you
ihopeiwont

Some day, I’ll build my own sandcastle, what do you think?
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