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Down through the ages there grew On Europe’s meadows and fallow rows Of corn, wheat and barley too A wildling flower with perfect petals blue  
I cannot help but picture you in a garden, laying amongst the wildflowers.   ~awatr
She is a wildflower. Not picked for her beauty, but for her wild heart. A child of mother nature  she grows in the darkest of places. Through the cracks of brokenness she blooms with grace.
This is Me. I am Bare.
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