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Fog in the Fall, Waiting for Winter

I don't know if I have been covering myself up

If I have been letting myself down

Or if these two things are one in the same

But I am in the middle of making sense of it

I don't know anything,

and I don't want to

 

I am currently filthy

I have collected thoughts that are starting to mold

Allowing them to become me

Leaving me empty, tired, and cold

I am killing myself slowly with these thoughts

Trapping myself, and ****** myself of my own freedom

Repeatedly throughout every day

It's completely unfair to who I know I really am

Beauty, grace, rhythm, and balance

The fog seems so thick,

Making me wonder if I can even grasp them

I know it's silly to see myself this way

I know it's where I am, and not where I will stay

But it is hard right now

It is a challenge

I need a push, not a distraction

I am choosing to go forward

Fix myself of these things

Cut the mold out,

and let these thoughts rot away

They aren't me, and they never were

Time is so cheap sometimes

Everything still seems like a blur

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Written by
alisha-rayann-todalen
Published
Nov 14, 2016
Lines·Words
29·198
Permission

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