Year to year these roots I
try to extirpate
as if I didn't have enough
on my plate
I used to see those leaves poke out
you have to admire
how all I want to see
is fire fire fire
I'm being petty
I know I'm being small
and in a hundred years
will any of it matter at all
but the roots vex me
they make me wroth
they make me want to
start all over from whole cloth
what
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