Lost

Two, Three, Four paths, and all Leading to nowhere. But the thicket is thick to bear Outside these trekked lines. When I forge my own path, The tendrils hold me back. Thorns cut my skin in this Forest of Hell. I can’t make it on my own. We must band together if we Intend to make it far Into the bushes and briar. Climb into the trees. Search the horizon. Cut each other free. Begin rising.

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