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Friday, March 23, 2012

Poem: Roots

When I was young,
I took everything to heart.
I wore my grievances like a cursed talisman,
Clasped to my soul
Like a leech.
When I am older,
My roots are deeper,
More resilient.
Perhaps when I am oldest
They will be as thick as those
Of an ancient sycamore tree.
But for now,
I am at peace with the world.

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