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May 2019
I had told no one
Where that speaking plant was;
For, it bent where no eyes could look
And where the woods became a mirage.

It led to where Daphne took,
And where the butterfly seed would ride.
Sent from a moonlit breeze
near the noxious smell of the tide.

It grew in marsh where all rested still, separate from time;
Where, the digits of the woods can grab you
and the Green Lord wears a Henbane Crown.
So watch where you step when you are among my kind.
Kenshō
Written by
Kenshō  M
(M)   
1.2k
   Fawn
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