Filters of my mind, I wonder, that allows me only to travel certain paths, the tree that spoke, aged and curling and flowers decorating it's top branches, like a crown, somewhere I have seen this, here I saw it again. Nonsense of course, but sometimes your images are just too darn gosh and filled with a rush of love for what the eyes see anything would sound the same.
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Filters of my mind, I wonder, that allows me only to travel certain paths, the tree that spoke, aged and curling and flowers decorating it's top branches, like a crown, somewhere I have seen this, here I saw it again. Nonsense of course, but sometimes your images are just too darn gosh and filled with a rush of love for what the eyes see anything would sound the same.
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