Squinting at the sun
Until dancing spots of blindness
Block the trees from view
Forming skeletal hands
Waving in the breeze.
Sometimes they reject
Sometimes they beckon,
A gesture hurrying
Inviting people to surrender
The burden to life
To the solace of death
The nothingness of being
Bound in a still pool
For all eternity.
Watching as skeletal trees
Beckon your fellows.
Never being able to interact
With any of them.
Eternally bored and alone
Nothing matters anymore.
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