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Scarecrow
November 21, 2014
You are a cornfield.
Row upon row of a crow's feast
Guarded by a straw man on a post.
No one dares come near;
They are assured there is a man in that field
Made of flesh and blood all ready for the chase
But do not see he is all straw in rags.
They do not see the corn spoiling on the stalks.
They do not see the obvious:
No one lives here anymore.
© Anonymous
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