What am I

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As I lay Full of dismay I drift far away I hear my thoughts say The dark was more enticing Than the day
Held between fingers On this forsaken bleached sand, To skin or paper Your markings will not desist. For you fulfill me, And allow my expressions To flow freely from your tip.
I am lazy   Says the critic in me I'm too hard on myself   Replies my kinder side Maybe I can work harder?    My inner optimist chimes in But what's the point?    Asks my depression
At noon on a Summer's day, What am I? I am an oak leaf, A casual observer Watching the world around me Enjoying the sights and sounds Strong and Compassionate Never hurting another.  
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