willows
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The door closes
Inhale your sorrow into your lungs
Breathe in insanity clouded smoke
Bury the hatchet underneath the willows
Once there was a willow tree.
A lovers' tree 'twas fit to be.
But times cannot define the soil,
War and hate marred branches loyal.
Rope on bark as cloth to back,
Love was all the tree did lack.
