Fingers were treebarked,
hungry for flat grey sky.
They will offer their sap to the sun.
The sun only forgets what it eats.
_____

Tay Arrow Sherman.

(There's no way to talk about it, when it's like that. But I won't bother responding 
anymore, because I can't just suck it up, without a 
blatant insult or a pardon, either way. I already know I'm not important, it's not 
necessary to make it that obvious. I'll just be gone after 
this. It's all I can do.)


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