What thoughts I have of you tonight, October,
for I’ve never walked alone the way I ought.
A double-decade drained. Divisive and over,
comprised of people collected,
and characters stolen.

This I know though, what it seems,
More than the changing of my lot,
For this world I can’t imagine,
Has borne far less than what I sought.

Now I stand to face the breeze,                        a chilling wind, a scattershot,
See these leaves in perfect juncture, with their wilting and their rot.
For it’s innocence I’ve lost and it’s innocence I’ll bear
When this age creates misgivings and I can’t help but feel distraught.

Cheeks of flesh turn to cold and replicate these ones
the chips and the dents that summon the reason,
I take this, accept it, a tall child in season,
Twenteen, more than once.