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Aug 2018
I am a tree
At least, that’s how I see myself right now
My leaves have turned green and inevitably they will fall off and I will become barren, even the trees change
But we don’t want them to
I always admired my strength, though lately I am not strong
I feel the warmth of the late spring breeze on my skin
Something I waited for all winter,
But now that it’s here it feels wrong
Everyone is in a blissful stupor
Screaming none-sense at the local bar
******* and flirting with intoxication
Drowning whatever sorrow or filling whatever void with mindless stupid things
I hate them
I hate the men brawling in the streets, after a night cocking about trying to impress females
Silence can be comfortable which is why I’m drawn to winter
Spring is a hopeful time, but how come it’s never easier each time you have to pick yourself back up?
Twenty eight and I don’t know what I’m doing
Two months, coasting through this tangible blissful ******* proud for all the wrong reasons
Maybe I never had anything
The trees sway, rustling of leaves through the breeze
I can’t imagine they enjoy when they lose their leaves, either.
Written by
Ameliorate  30/Canada
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