Coming Home

Mama I received your letter
I hope writing back will make you feel better
I am not evading home as you thought
But it’s rumblings of this life I sort
I believe beneath these echoes
There are voices of honchos

Voices that know the twists and turns
The colds and burns
Of this life we’re predisposed to travail
With their every nugget my boats sail
Cruising against the tides to places
Where tables are set beautified with vases

Mama I hope you live long enough
To bite a piece of my dough
That which is baked in my brain
And marinated with ounces of my pain

The pain of staying far from you
The pain of ditching all my clothes you sew
Just put on the corporate look
The manager believes does the sale boost

Mama soon I’ll be home
Just wait till I prove them wrong

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