Heaven

Some days I crave a sun so bright

Instead of Memphis rain

And people that can say my real name

Some days I feel my skin turning back

A darker shade close to black

And I hear my roots calling me home

But most days I know I am not alone

In feeling so far away from home

We’re all immigrants after all

Waiting for the call

To return to heaven

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strangerpaths

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things. I am Zee

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