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Wouldn't it be perfect

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Leaves dance with the wind
as it swirls through branches
and pushes blades of grass.
They tickle my skin
as I lay gazing up.
Watching the small puffs
glide across the clear, blue backdrop.
Birds sing,
trees rustle,
quiet.

Wouldn't it be perfect
if that was the truth.

Instead,
rain pounds,
thunder crashes,
and screams echo from the house.
They are fighting
always fighting.
So I sit in the rain and wait.
Until the screaming stops
and the sobs subside.
Then I duck into my room
and listen
in anticipation of the next storm.





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