The Oak

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Every age has its seed

Where we all can be

When we get out of the shell

And step into living hell

Sometimes we're an oak

Or we're humans with a cloak

But I prefer the former

Because I will never have to stay sober or warmer

Just the base

Being stable and safe

Enjoying the natural phenomena

That doesn't involve others' drama

But I can't see the sky

or the birds that fly

Because I'm gone

I'm paper that's to be drawn

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