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Field
Look at the field of grass.
Just floating like a green blanket.
It’s so inviting sitting still
Still with little sprinkles of morning dew layered upon it.
As green as broccoli or rosemary.
Its hospitality makes you know it won’t hurt you.
It’s just a soft blanket, awaiting your .
You walk over to the field and lay your arms first; then you legs and you relax.
Slowly you realize
It’s not soft at all.
It’s mean and it’s prickly. It was only lying in wait
To make you uncomfortable and itchy.
You jump up, realizing it’s full of angry ants and you have bitchy bugs
crawling all over you.
And the patch you sat on was wet, so now you have a huge wet spot on your pants.
Life is just this field of grass,
Waiting for you to live it,
And then when you do, you realize it’s not so elite or as exquisite as it may seem.
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