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Flowers turn into weapons
Fraying wind carries fences away
An old man standing waist deep in dirt
As the bottle empties

Palms by the spring turn into brook
The thirsty one's throat is constricting
There was something we believed in
Now we are broken

There is an illegible name
On the tombstone
Of a fell tree lying in town
I pile up log torsos in the night
Hoping for resurrection
In moonlit woods
Ruin turns into vengeance

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