Vines creep
And they siphon.
These green strings
lead a twisted path
from the dirt to my mind.
They whisper
their difficult truths
and inhale my exhaspirated sigh.
Despite their efforts;
My roots
are not their roots.
Share:Vines creep
And they siphon.
These green strings
lead a twisted path
from the dirt to my mind.
They whisper
their difficult truths
and inhale my exhaspirated sigh.
Despite their efforts;
My roots
are not their roots.
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