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■ The oak
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Another day turning in circles,
I cut the same doors in my chest, So you can see me with the top of your fingers, Hidden in my lungs, I take thin samples, Place them in Petri dishes and align them, They are the only proof you breathe like me, So you get why I schedule for you daily, This private tour of lights and shadows, Save puzzle pieces in my cells, And wait for you to knock on my sternum.
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