We’re not made to break, we’re bending kinds. We are the flexing in the winds, the lean so far you swear you’ll taste ground, the snap back to strength after they swore they heard us creaking. We are the roots in the soil, the grip of the earth and the defiance in our dancing. We are made of stronger stuff than they’ll ever know, we’re the storm clouds that build on the horizon and make their way across the valley, we’re the rainstorm that washes all things clean. We do not break, we bend.
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