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The Willow that Weeps
My branches droop
hidden inside me by my garnish of green.
The light tries to shine into me,
but I always block the sheen.
Millons of drops fall down,
for it is too much for my leaves to hold.
Weakness seizes me.
I wonder if the drops falling are my own.
The world sees my outer layer as greater.
My inside is hidden.
I see the darkness of my own shadows
and my twigs secluded in.
Winter captures over.
My drooping branches blend in with the cold white snow.
I look the same as the other trees now.
My leaves of weakness they will not know.
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