Fill me up with every lost treasured thing,
feed me every memory, squeeze out every
sorrow, scrounge up the loose pennies
from deep within. It is hard to understand,
at times, that the act of emptying one thing
is the act of filling another,
perhaps only a little.
It is hard to understand
that at times the only method to free
the heavy, jangling coins,
is to shatter the innocent piggy.

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