Image by Alexa from Pixabay. Hedgehogs have gone down from 36 millions in the 1950s to half a million today.
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You’re still defying me, Dreamer.
Maybe it’s the high blood pressure pills
Killing my dreams. Maybe it’s
The normal to and fro of my internal tides
That’s the problem. Maybe it’s something
Else? I don’t know what to do.
I feel that you’re important to me,
Dreamer, but maybe you aren’t.
Maybe you’re not an important gate-keeper
But just a sad unimportant fragment
Of myself. What do you think?
Dreamer: I’m important.
Me: Oh yes? Why?
Why are you important, skulking around
In my undergrowth and rain?
Maybe you’re just a mental hedgehog
With delusions of grandeur?
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