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Chasing Autumn
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Delicate I felt empty
as if the poetry left me
suffocated by humidity
I thought the summer got me-
the best of me,
the artist, the poet, the dreamer
full of beauty.
While in reality
the illusions made up my identity.
I couldn't see, lost in sleep,
running from the american dream,
spinning, lost in time As The Seasons Change
I've remained the same, running, running
trying to stay sane until Autumn came.
