The autumnal breeze whips my tangled hair
Past my heavy, doubtful eyes
And I begin to wonder.
Worry.
Waken.
Sleep.

We don’t need no mournful sound
Shake your graveclothes to the ground

‘You know, when I think about it,
What am I contributing?’
‘What good is this moment?’
Time knows no friend, no bias.
You either sink or swim and to be honest,
I feel like I’m dog-paddling.
The seasons swim timely and constantly.
Through the trudge, I remind myself of this—

We don’t need no mournful sound
Shake your graveclothes to the ground

The same wind that leaves me lifeless
The leaves leap and live through.
As the autumnal breeze whips my tangled hair
Past my dense, blooming eyes,
I lift my heavy head and smile.
Like the ever-changing seasons, I too will swim.

We don’t need no mournful sound
Shake your graveclothes to the ground

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