I think of tall mountains, precipices
And sparks that bleed into cave-dark lanterns.
Razors tell us truths we were never meant
To see, and scissor's blades will do the rest-
I have been in fire-bitten fields before
And the flowers that kiss us are blazes, I know.
Come to me and I will sharpen your teeth,
And you can chew through your own tight ropes.
Our enchantment shouts from verdant hillsides,
I will stand forever. You are the trees.
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