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 Jul 17 Pavin Daniel
Boma
I miss my mum
She's not dead
She's just holed up in work instead

No complaints
No regrets
But I know she hates this life when she scratches her head

I miss my mum
She's in the next room

Wanting to be free
But she doesn't leave
Because she misses me too
Through winters I long
For summers to come
And then they come
And I hate them
I'm always escaping
Never a part of the world
Through daytime I long
For the night's veil to fall
But it falls on me
Heavy like a rope net
I'm always waiting
Life always on hold
Music moves my soul,
to another time and place.
Opens my mind's eye.
Laughter can heal you.
It chases away Your stress.
Makes your pain hurt less.
He said he's leaving.
I've heard that so many times,
I highlight the door.
There's not much to see.
In the window of my dreams.
Living space is bare.
Old man is reviled.
Inside though is still a child.
Innocent and mild.
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