A lowely saint.
A forgotten soldier.
An owner of hearts.
I'll wither with you in your eternal struggle. We all stand for something, right?
So I'll sway in the breeze beside you there. On display to prompt the neighbor's jeering.
Your eyes so lifeless, your glow long faded. Moisture clinging to worn-out trunks.
The people they come. The people they go. Fabricating importance out of empty pockets.
But you, you'll remain. Unchanging in stature. A rare glint of hope in an unknowing forest.
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