Untitled

Dearest fall, look at the mirror and reflect upon yourself; are you happy with the way things are? Maybe it’s for the best. How am I to know if we are doing okay without worrying so much. My hair is falling out just like the leaves on an aging splinted oak tree in such a mannerly way of transcending into a drastic change; relatively a frigid one. Dearest winter, your body began to freeze as if you were to be in the state of shock, back to the time when you found out that the person you once loved the most is profoundly gravitating from you in reluctant disgust. In your head, the world has adopted to go against the wishes of you becoming blissful and is in a constant battle against you- waging a war that cannot be won. But why? For which it does not hate you, no- it is you, who has fallen into self-loathsome. Prudence, would be you, had you not lied to yourself. Now you’re harming others for being in the state that you’re in; the sun’s warmth desperately reaches through the thick heavy tainted clouds- The sky opens up and healing has been tedious. We know and seen how that battle was a victory with scars to learn from, but you’ll be okay. It’s all over now, pick up the pieces and let them freely fall into their rightful places, there’s no rush. Patience.