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Where I'm From (Phoenix/Pheasant/Pigeon/Raven)Where I’m From (Phoenix/Pheasant/Pigeon/Raven)
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Where I’m from,
Is a place folks from South Texas know of,
But most others would mistake for the slums.
But that’s only because it’s all one in the same
To those who are out of their lanes.
Born in the Cliff of the Oak,
I was created on the edge of a tree,
More proof I was a pigeon from inception.
Livin’ near strays that weren't dogs let off their leash--
Born under a monarchy that only had a queen
With a p(h)easant,
That took 11 years to finally reign as king.
My daddy was always there for me, sure,
But not always here.
We were stability lined with suspicion,
Which explains why my paranoia
Is always lined on the edge of my lips,
And fingertips. My eyelids may be half-lidded,
But my irises are always glued on true intentions.
Or maybe it was the constant ear infections,
‘Cause if my eyes weren’t peeled, I couldn’t see,
What I’d barely be able to hear.
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I’ve never been closer,
To the permanent entity,
Before in my life,
As I have been now.
This isn’t somethin’ you come to grips with,
Nor is it somethin' you handle,
With a wave of a hand, flick of the wrist,
Or bat of an eye.
You’re more like having a bat’s eyesight,
Near-blind because you can hardly see,
What’s coming to be
Nor what may arise.
It’s so fast,
Unrelenting in its pursuit,
And unwavering in its impact.
Shaking anyone who comes into contact,
With the whiff of death that consumes the air,
And constricts our breathing passages,
As you see someone you love,
Go down in flames and fadin’.
In (and out) the nebula of smoke.
Death isn’t so scary.
Just say goodbye,
(I love you.)
Before you die.