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Love
A rust colored field stretches for miles.
It doesn’t live.
But it is real.
A silver sky behind,
outlines a tree.
Beneath the blood stained leaves,
the tree’s roots stretch out like living veins.
They frantically search something
to hold on to.
The love of the water is
too far away.
The rivers ignore.
The rain doesn’t understand.
The water avoids.
I don’t blame them.
You can’t save something
that’s already dead.
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