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I was running down,
This sloppy hill, at dawn.
Where trees were inverted,
Leaves and roots—upside,down

A scorch I felt,
Under nature's belt.
Flames of sloppy rage,
Transpire with the corrupt age.

The scorch, now gone,
A wound, on me, lone.
Lone I was running down,
Wearing the dusty, broken crown.
Transpire is a formal verb that means “to happen,” or in other words “to take place or occur.”
30 days ago, I set a challenge for myself:
       No ***, for 6 months.

I am on day 31.
        That means there are 149 days to go.

This is
the single  
most idiotic
decision I have made in a long time.
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