History

[NOTE: This sucks, but it's how I feel right now.]

I am an old building. A museum. They built me with promise. With love. They filled me with things. With history. I grew tall and I told stories. Then one day I went up in the flames. I burned away. My memories crumbled to dust. All gone. I was standing only three feet tall. So small. But there's promise of rebuilding. Up, and up. And when they're finished laying the bricks, I'll be empty. But with time, I'll grow tall, and tell stories. Of history. Great stories told from the end. 

To the beginning.