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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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