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Home is Where the Heart is
Rain pounds on the concrete,
the echoes louder than my footfalls,
my ragged breaths,
the heart climbing out of my ribcage,
and the train whistle combined.
My bag in my right hand,
ticket in my left,
feel heavier than the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I barely know where the tracks will bring me,
so desperate to leave these city streets,
so desperate to leave this all behind,
my eyes only scanned the ticket.
I am the very first one off,
but the very last one on.
Georgia pies whispered forgiveness,
and I've finally found my home.
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