A Pale Scrawl
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Peals

6/13/2016

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Picture
The storm mumbled to itself between shouts
A litany of past wrongs
Marched out
A warning for us to repent

The trees bow
supplicants to the barrage
Silver sides of leaves fluttering hallelujah
For the life it bestows

While the water runs as fast and far
Away from where it came as it can
It has beheld the raging source
can't stomach the thought of return
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