Mourning for a fallen leaf


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Those were the Autumn days

Of the rest of our lives, after Love
The friendship we could not find
which meant so much.

Where we were left, among the stares of contrition
Slowly twisting down our smiling at situations
Immeasurable in discomfort.

I have been moulded into a secret
slowly conspired, afraid to walk
too heavy to fall over people’s eardrums.

At times I have been wounded by myself
I am wise enough to know that
Foolishness was in my own words.

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