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EVERYWHERE THE AIR GOES, I GO (a poem by Uwen Precious Ogban)

Read Time:1 Minute, 10 Second
/everything gets to me these days:
 oxygen. sound. bright light. nighttime.
 my reflection. people. friends. school.
 work. my name. car horns. i cannot
 name my situation, cannot categorize
 my pain. i am hurt. i am fading away.
 i feel everywhere the air goes, i go.
 most times, the ability to find oneself
 at the end is to get missing. i will feel
 better if i can shape shift, like some
 immortal being into air or water or
 sound - something unable to bend to
 life's rule. i am tired of mundane
 activities like waking up to a ceiling.
 the sea embraces the shore. the shore
 pushes it away. after day is night. why
 do they say it that way, that day comes
 before night? a guitar is played below
 the face. a trumpet needs a mouth to
 make its melody. we all need air to be
 alive. i am standing on a branch of life
 and willing it to break. why do we all
 have to go by a name to show
 identity? i have no reservations for
 what i want. as human, i must bend
 to a rule, must become a person
 answering a unique name from my
 father's lineage/.

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