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Wander by Musa Shafiq

  • Mar 1
  • 1 min read

Running around this maze,

dead end after dead end,

Give me my life back.

Give me my light back.

Give me my art back.

Give me myself back.


They told me many things: 

youth is a false lie, you're a fake king.

What has been taught has slipped from my mind like a string,

A creation of mine that echoes this maze, that rings.


A lot of things I've said,

a lot of things I fled,

a lot of things in my head,

clouded mind only tied together by threads, 

I ride down my own mountain with my sled,

and with grace,

with grace,

I’ll hopefully wake up in my own bed.


 
 

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