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Perennial
April 8, 2011
your flowers have withered
from the sheer cold of the rain
which pours from the frosted
mouths of others
struggling to be rooted in the confines
of rich soil
winter bares on your back
a most chilling song
but again you bloom
from darkness overbearing
a single bud,
which turns to the sun,
sprouting once again:
your happiness.
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