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May 13
At times, I wish to be a rock.
When the wind ceases, it ceases.
When the wind moves, it moves.
It stops when it stops,
Move when it moves.
A slight push carries it countless distances.
What is more free than a rock?
That, I do not know.
old willow
Written by
old willow  16/M
(16/M)   
87
   Jonas ernest
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