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Sunday Morning

September 23, 2018
I let our plants die
Not intentionally
It’s just hard
to take care of something else
When you can hardly keep it together yourself
There’s always a metaphor to be seen in these kinds of things
Right?
The beauty of death and the joy of life
I watched
As their soil dried up and their leaves coiled shut
I had determined their fate
You cannot inspire the dead to live
You cannot care
if there’s nothing left to give

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