When the heart cracks,
And love of self is lost,
The bird's song lacks,
Nothing and nothing costs,
Less and heals more,
Little we.
When beloved ones break,
And the light is so bitter,
The mind does awake,
To rain's pitter patter,
Awash in our soul,
Little we.
Where there is no light,
Acrid burns as we breathe,
Pollen spreads such a sight,
As we find ourselves relieved,
For no reason,
Little we.
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