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I feel the strings are breaking
The ones that hold us close
Pulled taunt
by the load they bear
the unspoken words
Growing heavier
as we refuse to say them
Fearing that our strings will brake
And knowing that they will
We are fraying
Our hopes cannot save this
The tree has seen my many forms, And questions,
And heard the people,
Who answered.
It has seen the me who was a child.
And heard me ask do they see me?
And heard my mom answer,
I see you!
It has seen the half teen me.