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  • Twenty past three,
    I cannot sleep.
    The thunders are more calm,
    Than the room next to me.
    I can hear
    As he raise,
    Both a bar and his voice,
    My mother pleading with fear
    All the way from her throat.

    I hear it,
    Too clear,
    Too soon,
    Too near.

    Ten years ago,
    I was born
    With the sky upside down.
    Times like these,
    I wonder,
    If there's even
    A heaven to reach.
    I've been
    In the same direction,
    Ever since.
    And I'm not sure,
    If there's really much left
    In this world
    For me.
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