Equinox

The creeping death of autumnal chill
Bringing an inevitable end to all that is verdant
Dreams fall as leaves to anonymous oblivion
And again, I am here
Returned to the crossroads
Again, alone
Will I always be so
Have I some flaw in form or function
Some deficit of soul
That renders my self so profoundly unworthy
Name that which I should change and it is done
Only
There is no voice here but the wind
No heartbeat but the echo of my steps
My appeal for reprieve
Falls silently on solitude’s ears

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