A strong dead oak tree is howling by the wind
Lightening crashes all around,
I run for shelter as my pain seem to have no end.
I hear the dead cry out for my life,
I cover my ears to deafen their screams.
Mourn not for the dead, for they are gone;
Mourn for the living, for they must go on.
Do what you can while you can,
There will be a time where the terror will end.
Life is rough and you thought you were strong enough
Now that you are going through this pain,
Hold fast, for this season you must learn.
Hold strong like the wide rooted tree,
For this too shall pass.
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