Withered by hungry fingers
Steamed with burning whispers
Rolled by fair Chinese hands 
Dried as round bullets 

Their hearts are cold and hard 
As the arctic rocks
Deprived of sunlight
Older than their years
Aching for freedom
Yearning to dance

From green to grey
Then evergreen once again 

Exploding from the sensation 
Of the hot water
Drowning out their pain and insecurities 

They swim in heaven, leaving only a smoky flavour

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