It's where we escape from
the fear
that smothers the senses
Where we see the opening
and exit we do
It's the origin
we escape from,
the nagging wife
so annoying
very depressing
so we leave
but will be back
Where like snakes we shed
now beautiful and humble
then ugly and spiteful
then nothing
but the way out
where do seeds fall?
Can leaves escape the roots?
Migrate the tree:
roots or leaves
who survives?
Perhaps it's all we know
from whence
we cry we laugh
we hate or love
or shed with winter
and bloom with summer,
or feed to be fed
if not fed to feed
From whence,
we bless and curse,
where we truely belong
here..
We will leave a mark
or leave nothing
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