Narratives

 they hang heavy on minds
they force my hands
I hear sounds
in the silence of tombs
I’m yet to be born
I’m still in the womb
-an unfinished piece
not allowed to bloom
 
my fears pull me in
them I’m riding a broom
the scene changes
Kaboom, Kaboom
I’m now the Master
worlds dance to my tune
the narrative changes
and life resumes….

Walk Like an Egyptian

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