The Bio Summary
I used to answer
I am more than I am not
But the longer I see
The more I know
I can't reach that branch,
The tree is too vast
And much too high
And my squirrel tendencies
End at chestnuts.
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In Storms
The clouds roll in, gray and heavy,
Obscuring the sun from another day.
The rain will come.
Wind rattles the barren branches
Creating a combination chorus
Of breath and death.
Shadows encompass the walls,
Growing longer and more twisted,
Drowning the fight.
Repeat and reuse the night
Warning against open eyes
In ending, in storms.
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