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  • sometimes i’ll smell the past and my brain is saturated with the fog of memories and i’m paralyzed

    sometimes i smell home from thousands of miles away and i just don’t know whether i like it or not

    there are layers to the idea of what home is

    sometimes that fog in my head turns to fire when the past and the future mistake their own identities

    the fire doesn’t burn or destroy, it churns and brightens

    and my eyes can’t tell if they’d rather be closed or open

    where am I going?
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