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West

Cliff thoughts

Mountains burning

Foggy, smoky, shoot straight through

Seems that everyone here knows

The joy crafted from the hazy way we drop things

Things that were cozy, but incomplete

Could have gotten through this maze just fine with them

But I went all in, and now with nothingness

I bake on the burnt sienna shoulder

Stare out into the hills, where I have no name

But rather, a much clearer place.

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