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Writing and The Woods

I am an easy writer.
I am on my couch, falling in love with keys.
But, behind every good computer is a good creator.
So I run from all the technology to find a slave... I seek paper.
However, those trees lose their leaves when winter comes.
SO I RETURN.
I look for solace in the face of my dad.
But, again my mother felt the back of his hand.
So, I run to paper to bring him to court.
But, that gavel is also made of wood.

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