i hardly ever mention the fall,
leaves crunched, branches empty,
i don’t need to paint a picture,
pictures are all you take,
one second, one captured,
so let me say this:
fall is an ongoing controversy.
every time, death is painted with colors
and something timeless as beauty
and every time i am fooled.

fall is the ongoing lie i tell myself
that the winter chill won’t bite
as much this time around.
and every time, i am fooled.

fall is a blind gesture to chaos,
all polite-like, it’s like being caught
but never red-handed.
i have to circle through loopholes
to find something i had already said before.
fall is the man who had kind eyes
and a sharp wit, who told tall tales
all the time and had me reaching even taller.
so i am fooled again.

my head is always making plans
and my heart keeps my dreams as they are.
my soul hears sounds that resemble a crow’s call,
only in nightmares as always.
my innate self-disobedience didn’t seem to think
i was stuck in perpetual hell, an arrow stuck with guilt,
with my hands trying to do good and burning with ice,
but i was, i am.
i am fooled over again.

i am still buried under poverty’s statement
of madness, a game i rush to catch up to,
to finally elapse with a breath of night’s crisp air.
i sit by fires awed at failure, but remain plastered
to my cowardice, my sense of my own unimportance.
i fool myself, over and over again,
cursed in fall to fall.


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