Walk in an orchard at midnight
under a black and starless sky;
put one foot in front of the next
while the rest of your world sleeps by.
Unidentifiable trees,
whose leaves whip in the cool night air,
whisper a faint, rhymed melody
of melancholy and despair.
Grasp for fruit that you cannot see;
stumble blindly over the roots
and fall headlong into the peat
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