It's some kind of literary form. Quote me: k.t. Sometimes explaining something does not give it meaning, but leaves it without purpose.

Do our memories even exist? We make them but it doesn't last forever. Where do our memories go? Is there a certain place where they can live forever and never forgotten? Our mind and heart are connected to each other. We love to remember things, the best and even the worst memories, it is undeniable. We express our feelings, sometimes the feeling of someone's not interested in you, someone doesn't care for you and everyone is against you. But sometimes, it is the best of both worlds. So we write. We write it in a diary, but writing a poem have a different feeling on it. It is a place where memories live.