august I was pumped to get things going
King of the court, have fun get riches
september came by without my knowing
composure unravelled, mental stitches
nine weeks from summer to Fall on my face
the leaves' skin has mirrored my way
changing, disfiguring, never in place
when winter comes, comes the Darkest day
Eye am carrying a massive weight
Bagged and suffocated by it
self imposed curse, not a matter of fate
disillusioned with false intuit
october I barely Remember.
Is it really November?
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