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Clouds

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Now I know why my father would
go out and cry in the rain..
Ah,
to see a man bellow
in the name of his sanity.
However did those
flowers survive through the storm?
Those raging waters flooding the bayou?
However did the beauty in imperfection
contradict consumate morals?
Man does not know.
But I know why my father would
go out and cry in the rain;

Refuge is in the clouds.





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