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No More At-Home
There are moments I shudder at the
music of my own door.
At the entrance of guests whose
guts grew more.
For decades I had married the
peace in my mattress.
But twice it wears now the sting
of thorn.
O.O.Oluwole.
music of my own door.
At the entrance of guests whose
guts grew more.
For decades I had married the
peace in my mattress.
But twice it wears now the sting
of thorn.
O.O.Oluwole.
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