In the corner lies a dusty crate
With objects that lie in a similar state
For no one knows what lies inside
From heirlooms and keepsakes to secrets that hide
The objects that we normally see
A story might belong to thee
So next time that I enter a room
As a janitor with a beaten broom
I remember with a sudden jolt
That is as quick as a lightning bolt
The hidden story that objects keep
When we see them we should look quite deep
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