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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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