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for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except, to taste the dust they must believe  in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows, washed by rain,
smelled, chewed by squirrels, beaten by hot-cold winds,
swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than
rotten in the mud under a tree,  be it a strong tree, who cares,
in other words, about a vigorous tree when you are a survival  arch,
canopy
arched up to the white canvases.
I'm lost
I don't know the time
I see her but she ain't mine
The evilness is changing my mind
Endless ways of getting out this life
You can't save me
You've already broke me
You can't change me
I'm sitting here in the dark
Going through my life
I'm just trying to survive
There's writings on the wall
I'm barley able to crawl
I want to say goodbye to my life
But I'm not strong enough to grab that knife
This is a sign, so there I lie
I guess I'm not ready to die

— The End —