Night falls, I call #poem

And if I sing of home,

I dream of mountains not yet climbed,

I let the birds travel through my voice

And twist my vocal chords into a nest

Large enough to house a lonely traveller.

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And if I sing of hell,

I point at shadows under my own bed,

Climb the duvet to flatten my sleep

And hear the goats cry even before

I close my eyes and return home.