A field.
Orange streaming from branches painted brown.
Secrets yelled in the middle of the city for nature's ears
Clouds billow smoke burning flesh.
Water, cleaning wounds and woodland creatures sigh as they watch.
Curled, fear crashing down.
A half empty pack of spirits, spent and wasted.
Humming.
Again, but a different pitch.
The boy listens quietly.
Years...Months...Days...
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