Nostalgia has been a constant reminder of the paradox I live in
It is an excruciating feeling of longing
It is a serene feeling of belonging
I keep colluding to run from the companions of it
The sorrows it comes with
I hold my breath while walking the streets, the ones which gave me daily treats
A hug from a tempest
Familiar to this feeling because my dad is a lieutenant
Frightened of making new memories
Feel like I will end up in the same streets
But I can't seem to dust off the inclusion I feel and how it makes me feel complete
The fact that I am making memories is a sole reminder of me breathing
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