This is wind
Like, “Wind,” wind
“The turbulence,” of it all, the
Subtle breeze, it becomes the wolf’s call
Howling through our settled home
Crackin’ our communications, elevating our tone
No longer a gentle whisper
The ground moves, the flame dies
We still film, we take pictures
Unoriginal, as our smiles become filters
‘Cause digital roses don’t die
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