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Dec 2018
I catch myself
feigning sadness;
‘’Tis the season,’
my voice might creak.

There is a dread I keep,
from year to year,
from month to month,
just for this week.

Forgetting why
should make me smile.
Yet, I don’t feel replete.

This season shines,
faux philistine;
Yet, still, you’re incomplete.
Written by
Nick Burns  Ash Tree Lane
(Ash Tree Lane)   
  224
   blush
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