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The Fence

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Barbed wire, so dinky and weak compared to the dangers I seek.
Yet this barrier so strong in the midst of the midnight song.
The mountains I have climbed, the cliffs I have scaled matter nothing in this tale.
From this blotchy fence I watch the majestic doe, turning away about to go.
A sight so familiar and vivid now, my screams stifled to whispers coherent as a low growl.
There I stand ‘till dawn approaches, the immaculate clouds freckled red as the sun rises.
Morning finds me rooted still, this fence having silent rage instilled.
There I dream to hurdle the fence, the bane of my life, and run free without strife.
To hop the fence remains my aspiration, a goal filled with willing attention.
Yet there I stand praying and kicking, beating the fence to submission.
Only there it stands, stronger than ever it never bends.
So I slink to the trees to climb my mountains, ignoring the fence on those cliff faces.
But again and again it appears, halting my progress as its wire sears.
Deeper into the woods I rush, climbing through rocks and brush.
Tranquil, without people streams run, there only the trees groan.



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