Never hug a sappy tree.
You’ll become sticky.
You’ll ruin what you’re wearing
And never wear it again.
You’ll have to trash it—there’s no
Giving sappy pants away.
The tree won’t care what you say.
A tree exudes sap
To keep irritants away.
Insist and you’ll be engulfed.
You’ll become your last struggle,
That awkward composition,
What someone else remembers.
You’ll become precious amber.
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