Monolog
I Ima Ryma
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A seed, I sprouted from the ground,
Rooted firmly so I might grow.
Others like me were all around.
I grew strong in the sunlit glow.
In some seasons my leaves would quake
And rustle in the breezes that
Turning to winds made branches break,
Gusting through our habitat.
One day a mighty storm did tear
Through our grove uprooting me.
Many fallen ones did lie there,
From life to death naturally.
As a log I await my time
Once more into a life to climb.
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