Cracked

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Weathered by our Mother’s tears,
the cracks dig deep and form crude figures.
Her doodles, we can see,
like an everlasting fond memory.

Filled with flowers, worms, and unicorn horns,
we are reminded of our innocent youth.
She has sketched on our arms – a message,
One we should all take to our hearts.

We have defaced the land our forefathers knew.
Is it only fair that she retaliates
by etching into us her pictures?
The true meaning of beauty.





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