Angry Forest

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A lonely raindrop, upon my arm,
Look to north, the scent of storm,
In the woods, amongst the trees,
To some a danger, I will not flee,

The leaves grow quiet, state of calm,
Now lightning strike, it won’t be long,
Thunder shake, the earth grow loud,
It’s power felt, vibrations sound,

The wind then whispers, as if by chance,
It’s language heard, by common man,
With anger now, for my distrust,
This violent rage, a force of thrust,

First lonely drop, upon my arm,
Fuse with thunder, lightning storms,
For in itself, won’t signal fury,
Combined as one, element of mercy

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