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Greive

Its cold outside
You climb a tree

Its warm outside
You climb a tree

Its wet outside
You climb a tree
~
God throws stones at your life
You drive a car to get away
Put you just cant escape the pain
The rocks on your roof
The paint away they chafe
But one has gouged your arm
The sounds of shattered glass sends you running
Back …
Back to your tree seeking refuge
But alas!
The tree,
Like all thing,
Have withered and fallen
Hollowed limbs translate a deceasing soul
In the blood of your pen, exile is forged



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