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The daughter's song & The Death of Philophobia

The daughter's song  The bittersweetness of a spring afternoon My weighty longing like a golden nest inside my neck This song is made of tears and the nostalgia Of a cigarette you refuse to smoke Everything will become sand very soon The hourglass' chest gets emptier and emptier With every bird that flies over the land I will leave I will leave I will leave I will leave My childhood home, my country, this body I call mine I will leave my body for good - not only briefly, when kisses occur Or prayers flow like the hot blood Of a bird, of a golden fish, of a teenager in love  Please keep holding my hand And receive my quiet gratitude  For making me Your daughter.  April 21, 2021 The Death of Philophobia Light filled my lungs The cage inside the bird was burnt to ashes From those ashes - a new song was born This song, in fact, was born The consequences of the flame were felt before the actual fire From those ashes - a diamond was made My hands were there to help The diamond inside

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