The first day the first cigarette came before breakfast,
The first night the first light of dawn found you surprised,
The first week after the first kiss stabbed your inner child to death,
The first year you can't remember your last birthday.

Once upon a time, you had all your little pictures in a box.
Then you bought a diary, a scrapbook, a corkboard
And left your box of pictures in the dark corner behind your coats.
But now you can't find enough words to fit your pictures into your diary,
Your scrapbook is already full of other peoples' faces,
And when you go look for pins to use for your corkboard, you find

The box is empty.