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Scout on Mothers/ The Winds

 She gives her breath to make life in the air

Trees envy the power only they sought to hold


I watch as she scorches and yells

And through her eyes, I can almost see a drought


What she has squeezed from her own toil

Is resting unused in my soul


What have I given her back, she questions

Yet I know I didn’t ask for this responsibility


She suffers without the pain of approval

I birth to follow in the amenities of pain


I gift my new presents what I was once given

They follow in our cycle of remorse



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