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We're all just leaves in the wind,
delicately holding on
to weakened limbs.

And as the cold winds blow,
we're reminded once again
that it's not always wise
to go with the flow.

But we're all just the wind as well -
one can never tell -
blowing leaves in every-which-way
wherever and however they're ever blown.

And we're also the tree
in the relentless Autumn -
a tree that's left all on its own.
We're all just leaves in the wind,
wondering how everything's
gone wrong.

We're all the wind
in the end,
dying ---
finally realizing what we've done.

We're all just trees in the end,
longing ---
for the Spring to come.

Then we're all just leaves once again
when we finally
when we finally see the sun.

We try our hardest
not to be the wind,
nor the tree in the end,
but we're truly every one.