By exceptionalpoet
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The wind blew through the solitary trees
Whose crowd looked like a bunch of bees;
And among those bees was a very special one,
But in a bad way, there was no fun.
For he was just an edited story,
Crumbling down to pieces,
and rebuilt again, only
To be broken yet again.
All his trust, love and faith
For all his "close" ones
Faded into nowhere
As he drowned in anagapesis.