deepundergroundpoetry.com
Natural Causes
Mother Nature, make up your goddamn mind.
If even the seasons don’t know who they want to be, then how should I?
I want the streets to be painted with leaves,
because the trees are all that’s left for me;
or the snow to fall so hard that I can barely breathe.
And I’ll let the seasons kill me.
If even the seasons don’t know who they want to be, then how should I?
I want the streets to be painted with leaves,
because the trees are all that’s left for me;
or the snow to fall so hard that I can barely breathe.
And I’ll let the seasons kill me.
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