i bring my kiasu friend to the airportleavings are never easy, not for longand though we both saw blur along the waymemories flooded present tensions.in the curry of his life no lemak remainedso now the predictable exit signalledthe end of his roundings, his bombingshe can bluff like hell, ma, he got styleand left me thinking about home, my kampong.

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Themes

  • Poetry — The art of language, rhythm, and emotional expression

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