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Theres always a first and there’s always room for the last. Just as surely as the sun will set and the moon still floats onward and the day is done. There’s always a first and last but I can’t help feeling like they are occuring way too close to one another. My eyes have seen so much new beautiful greenery and I’ve felt my shaking hands cutting them like rotten trees. I am worried without
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drown me in your waves, crush me under your snow. the ice in my lungs burns more than the fire ever did. Let me fade away into your bodys warm soil. The trees steal the sunshine and you could be the light. apple of my eye, the fruit of my labor and the bustle in my hedgegrow. inhale your smoke from the leaves that you are burning. your light is burning in through the canopy