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The wind howls through My sweetest tree, And scatters the leaves To the ground. Falling on the barren land, They force their way into my yard, And attract my attention. I try to sweep them up unwillingly, But they cling tenaciously. They hold and hide, And when I least suspect it, They jump right into my door. Leaves, more leaves, different leaves. Leaves don't go away. But the leaves turn to thorns And prick me. Turn to leaves again, And blow away, leaving me To bleed.
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