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Race of Life
Run forest run
Run from the bulldozer
Run from the duplexes and sirens
The high-rise and cement
Run from the crowd
The crowd that tears you down
Lights you ablaze
Run from your destruction
The destruction of green
The destruction of all the little birds
The doe and their young
The pretty little butterfly
Set upon a newly blooming flower
Run from the urbanization
Run from closing in of everyone
No more would wind blow
So freely in your branches
No more would life be born
Of the unspoken species
In your high above place
Instead the breeze would be squeezed
Tight through an alley
And babies screech from a cement box
Never knowing the music of tweets
Rustling
Scampering on top of leaves
Run
Run from it all
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