Still Learning

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Never Really Gone

Old, ragged, dirty fears
Pitiful sparks of abandonment and lonliness
Seedlings of irrational worry left behind in hard, red clay
You didn't think they would be able to grow
Starved for the tears you've long deprived them
Scorched by months of sunlight poured out from above
No space below for roots to grip and choke.
It was only a matter of time before doves picked them off
and took them far, far away, never to be seen or considered again
That was the hope anyway.