Who

I am the lungs of the ground
Wrapped deep in the roots of history

I am the pavement
That everyone walks upon

I am your finger nails
Growing longer and thicker without notice

I am a word whispered
Quiet and not meant to be spoken aloud

I am a book by your bedside
My pages so woren out from love

I am the groan you breath out
In the morning as you wake up

I am a love poem
Who no eyes will meet

I am a growing child
Who is very much confused

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