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17.2.11

Seasons

I'm trapped in freedom,
reluctantly standing strong refusing to fall which actually makes me 
the weak one,
every now and then I hear whispers of a heroine planning to release him
but I never seen none,
I’m married to the seclusion no incarnation of intrusion can come
between’em,
two steps away from leaning in with the demons, I’m starting to listen and 
believe’em,
that releasing my rage would be appeasing, I should embrace this fierce feeling of fiending,
with no fear of loosing out or forgetting about the future for which I been dreaming,
my hopes have departed long before this poem started and I aint worried about them leaving,
so acting out of my good sense and being outlandish seem convenient,
almost gives me meaning,
but I have yet to leap in whole heartedly cause honestly
Its freezing,
from when I lay to rest my head till I wake up in my empty bed,
I continue on for one reason,
I need to buy more sweaters,
cause though my brain may skip through different planes and in solitude you never come out the same and everything you know seems to change
except for
the season.

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