She and the seasons
A short introduction
Near the factory of endless reproduction, I met this girl, whom had the answers to almost all of the questions. Her slippery soul never seemed to figure out how to stay in a moment now she’s gone like the leaves in late October. I tried to manage a life within the frames of some sort of happiness; she was the laughter I was the tears. The love went cold like the water in November, as she vanished there was no more to see than the death of December.
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