I imagined myself walking,
morning made itself a hike
No one knows where I am.
So no one can help me now
(if they wanted to)
If today I woke up
some other died
in my place
(with my face)
These roots for rock
lean on mossy claws.
Open, distance unlocks:
the wrong turn every time
and lengthens why I'm here.
Become beautiful. Unreliable
--like leaves aged and plaid.
_
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