I once saw a tree held together by a metal band
The branches above had emerged grotesque,
Amplified above a trunk that was not quite stable
So the band on your hand became your survival
Your crutch, and your crippler
Like the tree, it marred you and like the tree you could only grow crooked and scarred
You cannot stand alone without it, it has diseased you
But you have spoiled it also,
It began to rust long ago
People take pictures of trees like you
People write books of trees like you
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