The changing seasons,
The sudden sound of birds living again,
Makes me think of reincarnation,
And the way those crinkled, colored leaves,
Fall unseen to the chilling ground,
Puts my body on the defensive,
Jumping at every sound,
And a sterile world blanketed in snow,
Does nothing for my piece of mind,
Telling me the treasures of my soul,
Are buried deep, where no one will find,
The true me. No fight.
Not even sunshine lasts long enough,
To penetrate and truly thaw,
My seasonal disgust.
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