The Story of the Grass

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I see the way to the middle of the woods
Grasses are brown I suppose it should
Such as a sad and slender course
But it guides you towards your cause


The feet that touch to the leaves and roots
Might be a burden that no one hopes
The pain that catches of its nerves can bare
For the people to use once they retire.


The grass deserves the life will be
To live with glee and abundantly
But the grass chooses to stay
For people to find their way.

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