Weaves,
Weaves,
Through the stripped down trees
That grasp for the expansiveness
Of freedom.
My sanity has been redeemed,
By familiar things
Mixed with new stings
That poison us together.
I'd never say never to the antidote,
But could never find the anecdote
To rival new remnants
That replicate what I'm shown,
When local is getting closer,
But the ghosts are staying home.
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