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Beautiful and Wild

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What I thought was a rose,
Is just a weed,
That threatens to grow wild
And out of control.
Tell, what has it done, to
Deserve a place in my world?
For what has it done, to steal
A place in my soul?
For I will cut it from the
Earth.
But I know it will not just die,
Till I learn to tear it with its
Roots,
After a million tries.
And leave that place barren, yet
Alive, for something else that will
Grow beautiful and wild.




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