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Mar 2014
if i was a twig
maybe i'd be able to sleep

trunks are fussy
roots are cumbersome
and you, you are but the smallest bud
a dying breed, a life everlasting
see-saw my wood-rot rings
and make a use for me, will you?

i am nothing but oldwivestales and folk songs
with long-forgotten lyrics
and misread meanings

mistaken for
wolf mother
Written by
wolf mother
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