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Pendulums swing,
Fails to bring,
A seedling who chose death.
With bliss it rings,
Far back it will sing,
No knowledge of tree's absent breath.
Does it matter whether,
Death or life is better?
Spring tree's annual phase,
Won't bring back usual rays,
'Til autumns ballets,
Cease to cascade,
Of burgundy melees.
...But they're not afraid to die...
Suspended cloud,
Sailing proud,
Never experienced pain.
Neglects to include,
Fall's loss in it's mood,
As leaf after leaf must leave.
Is it's awful cede,
As much as it's fancied?
Have you ever known,
The danger of the grown,
What perils deeply sewn,
Into such dying tone?
Now the tree's won't moan,
...Because it wasn't afraid to die...
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