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Slowly Fading to Nothing

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August morphs into September,
Honesty falling off the sober trees,
The chilly air hangs around our necks,
You see Fall is back from overseas.

 

Half of our adjoined dreams seem uneven,
The lines erased too many times,
Everything spills from the peripheries,
Each word is a warning sign.

 

I don’t want this feeling to stand out,
I’d love nothing more for it than to be tucked in the dark,
But morning is surrounding us like cold water,
And yesterday is past tense watching from behind the bars.

 

I don’t know the extent to which my heart can argue,
Or how my mind can steer the wheel,
In the mean time, my walls have been ripped of color,
And I dread the moment grey becomes all i feel.

 

Our pleasantries don’t have to go astray,
Maybe one day the north might attract the south,
Cause repulsion would ruin the ending,
And isn’t the ending what every story is about.

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One Comment

  1. “isn’t the ending what every story is about.”
    Quite the statement, and something that’s absolutely reflective of human expectation. The end. And somehow I managed to find beauty in the idea of tucking nothingness in the dark. Something that not everyone has the capacity to do unfortunately. Beautifully rendered, my friend 🙂

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