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■ The oak
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I’ve been here before
holding this salty taste of fear on my tongue I endure two burning stones under my feet making me walk like a drunk each time people keep distance avoiding my eyes each time I do feel this deep need to grab them / bind them / touch their minds while waiting to be spoken for then I’d break down my chains and I’d run straight to that river to prepare my watery wings yes, I’ve been here before embracing that fear of not knowing if I could be spoken for but each time I put one word on my tongue and each time fear turned back to water
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