As promised, more poetry, this piece is called Haroon and is about my name. Haroon Origin storyNo spider bitesDropped in Luton, via PakistanEast end matriarch named meRight-hand man of a tongue-tied prophetReligious narratives are the roots to the branch of this treeMusa and HaroonMyth or realityDon’t knowDon’t careI’ll turn myth into realityTook damn near four …

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