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The fish
My brother went fishing.
His figure disappeared into the woods.
Green bushes and odorless flowers concealed his trace.
I followed him, pushed myself into the bushes.
The sky was coming down, darker;
I felt it approaching my weak body.
The silhouettes of all the trees around me
seemed different from the day time, scarier.
The river hid itself from me,like my brother did.
I could not find him anywhere.
I was lost.
I walked and walked,
scars of woundsappeared on my bare feet.
I was thirsty, hungry, missing my brother.
Then I heard
the sound of rivulet-riverflow.
My destination. Yet
my brother was no where to be found.
There was a fish
underwater.
I saw it, so clearly.
A fish.
My brother never came back.
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Something I wrote on a rainy afternoon.