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  • chaoticallysmallpoetry

I am not broken

I am not broken.

When the trees move,

with the wind, waiting

for the storm brewing in my head.

Knowing that I am not broken. The trees break easily

when the wind throws them back and forth, pushing them

with words of hate, that break off branches.

Seeming like, this is the end.


Nature finds a way to

regrow from the pain.



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