Ghost Feet Nightingale This is the forest of intrusion, Where under every step, the dark and thorny tangle of the forest floor Shatters her footsteps Until she can no longer walk. Where before every step, the branches and vines and weeds Extend their disgustingly needy arms. She breaks them, quiet and wrathful As she walks with her ghost feet. Look, translucent girl! The trees are standing sentient. What are you so angry for? The thorns are far below, Covered in a sea of soft leaves. What are you so angry for?
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