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i stand in silencewatching the wind and the grass it blows asidei look up at the white cloudsand they stare back at methen in the moment i look awayone separates from the restit comes down to my parched landand beckons me toward iti walk the few steps it takes to reach itit sits there staring up at meseemingly waiting for me to make a movewaiting for me to take that one stepand stand resting on the wings of heavenso i stand therepondering over my lifeand i endure that stepi fly offtogether with my wingsi fly off and becomefreeIt feels odd to write a poem that doesn't rhyme.So good? Bad?
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