In a September, crawling, mourning
a summer lost to raven skies and soon frosted morning.
I walk at burnt leaves, falling, roaming.
Like my own life, cold and scorning with each toss
and turn till the awning is broken on choppy seas
calling, churning.
In the dead of a night, hollow, lonely
emptiness steals, the last echoing laughter, and only
after I wrestle with covers, deflated, yawning
Like my own life, no texture, padding with each toss
and turn till the madding, aching day draws my body
to a dead sea.
I know you have forgotten me but do you recognise my blood?
a summer lost to raven skies and soon frosted morning.
I walk at burnt leaves, falling, roaming.
Like my own life, cold and scorning with each toss
and turn till the awning is broken on choppy seas
calling, churning.
In the dead of a night, hollow, lonely
emptiness steals, the last echoing laughter, and only
after I wrestle with covers, deflated, yawning
Like my own life, no texture, padding with each toss
and turn till the madding, aching day draws my body
to a dead sea.
I know you have forgotten me but do you recognise my blood?
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