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The-little-prince

Barren Fields

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The-little-prince

Barren are the hills that are here

Rolling fields once filled with flowers

Are turning brown

And the vegetation has gone sour

Everything is dying off

Going stale with every hour

Once a beautiful place

Now deprived of a divine’s grace

There’s no rain

No sleet

No snow

Where did it all go?

I ask myself

Where did my mind go?

Happiness is just a bad joke.

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