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I’ve returned to these four white walls

In which I first learned about a spirit’s fall

In which my virginity was taken

In which my reality was broken

And all the words I wrote

Make it feel like a purgatory

And mother’s haunting wrath

Made a prisoner out of me

I’ve come back home

Where the blankets are sewn

I’ve come back home

Where my being is strewn

Sunflowers and loves of a lifetime

I’m surprised tears didn’t drown my rhymes

The tree outside the window in Spring

Just brings to mind its annual dying

Moods started spiraling

And suicide became intriguing

Maybe in my return

There will be some kind of ending

I’ve come back home

Where the blankets are sewn

I’ve come back home

Where my being is strewn.

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