The funeral for December
And on crumbs we feed
December died in the laughter of lunacy, and so am I in the asylum of haunting memories and misplaced hate I’m being reduced to just a shadow, a melt-down of post traumatic grief. Just another malfunctioning doll arriving from Gods truly blessed production line. No disrespect but there is a few.
So where was I, yes now I remember, it was a couple of months past November, and I was standing at the shoreline looking at the struggle as the sad little ducklings were trying to fight the stream, I put one hand in my pocket looking for crumbs and unbroken dreams so that they could feed, but my pockets were just as empty as the schools on Halloween.
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