Roots

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I guess you could say my roots have grown into the ground. I’m attached. I’ve began to feel I belong, but the fire is approaching. I need to run. I should have just been a cloud drifting by. I need to pull each root out. The pain and sacrifice with each only an added bonus. The fire is approaching. I should be rootless. I need to drag these roots through the streets. I’ve got nowhere to go. No home any longer. I’m rootless. The fire is far behind now. I’m rootless, but I have nowhere to go.





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