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UnicornLoveeMuffin
Community Member
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Thinking
The cold wraps around me as a blanket made from death
The wind moves the leaves, like fingers gently moving
i pause to watch the flower, in a forest of weeds
I see the great tree looking down on me
I see the endless street going on for eternity
I move slowly, to watch everything in sight
In the sky a lonely bird, searches for it's flock
Alone i walk what seems to be a empty road
with only the cold, blanket of death
to comfort me