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Jul 2018
i am the dying tree rooted firmlyin place with no thing left for me clinging with cold limbs to the greedy dirt there is life yet elsewhere, not here i am undeserving. hollow form snaps under strain, to uproot would be fatal, the ground a hospital bed cover me and keep me safe. a disease in the roots spreads along the tree
o to cut out the dis/ease
Written by
Snaggletooth
  630
   Benjamin and Monet Echo
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