Here I stand again, by myself
In a different spot, in the same moment.
I've been all my life running through these cycles,
New people, new girlfriend, new activities, new place
As they always do, at some point they run low and I run far,
I keep my distance, enough to get warm, enough so I won't get burnt.
Even so, in the end, I make the
same mistake, everytime a season falls
I stretch out from this safe sacred shell I've built to
protect myself, only to regret leaving, only to regret ever even
building it in the first place. So, as the last leaf falls I'll be there, getting close to the fire and the certainty of getting a deep burn.
I feel pathetic, do you know what pathetic means? It's not what you'd expect,
I'm not what you'd expect,
you're all more than I expected.
Maybe that's my sin, to burn for not letting people in earlier,
to burn and realise it's ok. You don't have to fall in love today, not again. Just kiss her and move on. You don't have to feel alone today, not again. Just hug them and move on.    Tomorrow a new season begins, maybe for a day, maybe for five more years, maybe the last you will ever see.
Do you see some sort of metric in this "poem"? Do you see it's shape unfolding right through your eyes as you read? You're mistaken, it means nothing, it's much simpler than you think, I can never convince you of that, though. And, as the cicada's song, our cycle repeats, it's funny;
It's tragic;
It's real.