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  • Being home
    like being caught
    somewhere
    in the middle
    of your life

    A little bit
    backwards
    mostly
    inside out
    I remember
    the way the city
    wrote me
    the people
    shaped me
    and the ocean
    drank me
    with the salt
    licking

    I miss my
    friends that are
    still here
    and I miss
    my mum
    beside me
    but mostly
    I miss the
    way the
    hills roll
    my heart
    beneath
    their belly
    so that the
    roots are my legs
    and the branches
    my
    fingers
    reaching for the sky
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