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Dream

I needed to know my first love (my mom) suffered a little less than me; otherwise there wouldn't have been a second (my dad) to orate to me about this land: brushes on mountainous terrain with the wind reciting vows between them and the dowsing of fire where eyes consent to storytelling shadows who haunt cascading visages both evergreen and needing to dream of something completely unbroken.
Backmomentarily
Written by Backmomentarily
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