The shrill voice
of my mother
can be heard,
wandering through
the realms of memory,
a fleeting notion
to be held
onto the prime meridian
of my divine soul
I wish there was
some way to make it stop
I wish there was
some way to drop
Out of this cycle,
out of this motion
Of recollections
too painful too ignore
Not wanting to explore
More than what has been seen
In the eyes of yesterday’s dreams
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