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Rated: E · Poetry · Teen · #1837578
i wrote this thinking of my very wild sister.
Like a creek runs through a meadow,
Country runs through her veins.
Beautiful. Graceful.
She's a wild flower.

Born into a Christian family,
She's as pure as winters snow.
Innocent.colorful.
She's a wild flower.

Running barefoot in the grass,
The wind whipping through her hair.
Wild.lovely.
She's a wild flower.

The country lives in her soul,
Flows through her body.
Free.unchained.
She's my wild flower

my heart,
my soul.
the tears keep racing down,
it seems theyer the only thing he didnt steal.
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