Wednesday, March 23, 2011

I am the oak tree that won't bow before the wind, Branches sway but never bend.
I am the blades of grass, many but we move as one mind, unbreakable.
I am the sheathed blade, potential hidden behind panes of folded steel.
I am the second-to-last, patiently waiting my turn but not despaired.
I am the final straw, calculated for the finishing blow.
I am passion rekindled.
I am lost lovers.
I am the hammer and the chisel.
I am the undefinable, I am the here and there.

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