moped 7

Tell me that you see me no other way.

I have begun the other trials.

And, I have given all the other sides a ‘say.’

 

Populating the earth in versions of misgivings.

Anchors the feet,  one is born to live in.

 

There is no other season but what is falling.

And, shades of yesterday come in cruel.

Amassed with different colors.

There is no other season but what is falling.

There can be no other.

 

 

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