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Nov 2020
Autumn breath softly whispers
of cold dark truths.
A lonely tree hides his ferns
to feed the roots.

Boiling cauldrons of mud form
to block my path.
Fermenting clouds leave me torn
between your wrath.

Splitting Venus chips last odes
to packs of wolves.
Deceased waters hold dead toads.
The world dissolves.
Written by
Gilbert
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