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The concern roams in the alleyway,
A few yards from this garden,
Miles from the synthetic sunshine of the day

It resides now in a place locked away,
And often ponders upon its purpose,
In the fogged splinters of a 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 one-way mirror

A bit hazy from the distance, but I see,
Its come to love the abouts of the abandoned street,
On peaceful days, it jumps off the edge of the cliff,
Immortal as ever, it returns to wander the streets yet still

Perhaps, like the seed, it shall forever live
Perhaps, like the tree, it's meant to root within
Only that its roots, die when watered
When addressed and attended, they succumb.
Do you really think looking away would help?

— The End —