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I like Fall, really I do. The pretty leaves, the cool air.
I hate Fall too. It’s like the last mile before I hang. Awaiting hibernation. A kind of death of sorts.
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Time cannot dissolve the pain
The scars stay fixed and fibrous
Remodeled bone creaks again
Fear hangs in the air, forever timeless
Nothing can heal those wounds
You’re broken, no longer whole
Evermore changing, reckless moods
An empty receptacle of a beaten soul