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The Warm Familiarity of Death (And all its Counterparts)
I’ve known death longer than I’ve known life.
It’s all I knew before this world,
It’s all I’ll know after.
Maybe that’s why I feel like this.
Why I breathe deeper,
When there’s blood on my skin.
Why I feel so human,
When I have wounds down my limbs.
Why I feel so alive,
When I have bruises along my ribs.
It’s death beckoning me back,
To the first home I’ve ever known.
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