And the moment I believe all the leaves are mine,
They shed like it couldn’t be anymore dry.
Unsolicited autumn and dry spells infest,
Without my potions brewed I fail the test.
Aphotic atmosphere push me to the end,
But I fight back and pull myself instead.
I run back to the cabin hidden in the forest,
Grieve on my own
And yearn for the stolen.
Sharp stones breach my feet while I run,
Fresh wounds surface
And the scars underneath my sleeves burn.
Unknown metaphors join the brunch
And I continue walking
As the self torched remedies bring me back to the front.