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To Kill Our Tree


Jessica Sayer

The world grows with each breath
Slowly grow out of reach in a fourth
Crying with the rain
Lying among the pain
Our world holds us
Yet we coldly fuss
What are we in the mass of things
From far and so wide, we aren't even kings
But we stand on our hills
Declaring for all our intended ills
From poisoned water to leaky waste
We gather it all in a sneaky haste
Our world be a stinky place
And us hidden in black ink and white lace
The would will be no more
One day we will see the cold sore
We placed on our home
It shall be our tomb
But till then be free
To kill our tree

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