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The forest is on fire,
painting itself black
for your arrival.
The crimson flames
devour life,
it's actions mirroring
the impenetrable concrete jungle.
The ashes are my home,
drawing war paint
on my cheeks
with insistent fervor,
lighting matches against my bones,
my veins ache for the death
that surrounds me.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to rusting buildings,
and asphalt skin.
The forest is on fire,
and we are burning with it.
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