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The air in between you and him is killing you.
It cannot be from God.*
But God gave me my family
And I have been trying for years to forget that.
The air between me and them
Is the slowest death of all.
It has just finally progressed enough
That when a friend says,
“Look, if you don’t tell me you’re going to be ok, I’m going to have to call somebody,”
Who was he to call?
I was born alone from the beginning, nomadic blood imposed upon me.
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