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Piece by piece I pick you out
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My mind is a racetrack
The blue morning sky glows through my blinds and mixes with the sleep in my eyes as they slowly open.
My short sleep is cut even shorter by the loud bin truck outside.
Last week I quit my job.
Why do I rush myself so relentlessly
I grow a tree in my soul
In 40 years
Drowning in the chase for coins
Yesterday I hugged my mum, for the first time in five thousand days.
Jesse Ojuka 