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Raspberry Picker
The sunshine sprinkled
 Over my face like burning ambers
 My hands were sweating
 As I tightened my grip on the
 Wooden baskets,
 Overflowing with
 Purple, plump raspberries
 I forced my legs to keep walking
 It felt like if I didn’t 
 Stop to rest, they would
 Crack like stone and
 Turn to dust
 Like the warm sand
 Under my bare feet.
 I put a little raspberry into my mouth,
 And as I stared into
 Nothing,
 I tasted its sour bitterness.

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