leaves dying and a cool breeze
the dead things on the ground
reflect what i feel inside.
this is not a metaphor,
it is an observation.
foolishly wishing for more alone time
but not wanting to be alone.
i hate my thoughts,
i hate my hopes and dreams,
and i tend to focus solely
on only that of my past failures.
i am unhappy.
i don't fucking care.
i'll watch the leaves die,
hopefully by the time
spring comes again,
i'll be able to feel something again.
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