A human thing

people have this habit of being human

But I must digress

because the greates acts i've ever seen

simply havn't happened yet

 

A tree once told me

the world is but a drop

and find myself wandering

if it ment rain or not?

 

My hand is but flames

ash that is quickly sewn

because i'ld rather keep this world a lie

then find it all along

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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