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Medicine
Wind
suffocating me
in its cold,
hungry, unrelenting
grip.
My hair slaps
my face. My
goosebumps spread.
Wind chimes
playing their
song. It's conductor
quickening the tempo.
I do not stand up.
But continue to lay
in the thereputic grass.
Althought I freeze.
Although my nose is red.
This wind is my cure.
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