Tell me what it is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That resonates so dearly with a heart
Melancholy and somber
This rain is soothing
Like the soft white I line my walls with
A golden haze playing through my veins
And flames to match the essence
But not the calefaction

You can watch me drift into a paralysis effortlessly
A debilitation cold and lingering
Like lifeless trees awaiting the worst
Some sun
Does not change the course of nature
And I wonder what flavor of future
Nature holds for me
I feel like the trees
In the middle of a foggy autumn afternoon
Comfortable

And content
Living in the shadows of a world
Too engulfed in regurgitated highs
To contemplate or appreciate struggle
A world utterly ignorant to individuals soft spoken and inherently
Harmonious in the ways of authenticity
And naturalism and realism
We have the endurance to undergo lifelong tempests
But lack the energy to speed through
Trivial phases of Insatiable beauty 
Our growth is goddess enough

Tell me what it is about the moon
Majestic and nostalgically haunting
A calming through night's terrors
And unforgiving traumas
Silver whisps of validation shine into a heart
With love looking a little too much like silhouettes
An ebony void seeping into the cracks of joy
And pain becoming an obvious pattern
And the moon is there always
Watching the molding in a resentful awe

What happened to the life of the young
Happiness looking like summer nights
And chrismas lights and vintage pop bottles
Fading into an uninviting outline
Through that type of half reality
Half fantasy version of time
Months feeling like hours
But unrewarding years all the same
Childhoods disappearing into insomnia
And I'm not very hungry
And I don't want anything for my birthday
Kind of aloof answers
We get it
We're all just tired

Tell me what it is
About the stillness of autumn
That induces a numbness in our hearts
Watching our desires blow away with the wind
One by one
They sing their remorse through aeolian howls
Uncanny and ghost like
Or the early nightfalls
That strangely feel more intimate
Than our last touch did
A type of familiarity rather profound
And lacking in any form of resentment
Maybe it's the significance in vulnerability
The stripping away of irrelevant priorities
To see the real
To see the roots

Tell me what is is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That soothes a tired soul
A vagabond in search for more
And a heart a little too in love with loss