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Updated on July 19, 2017


It was autumn
In terms of good boys i had never caught them
But as the leaves fell in the brisk yet humid air
And the wind rustled your dark curly hair
I fell with them
Drifted here and there
Letting nature use me as decoration without a care
Like a stain glass window
That's been undoubtedly broken
And the shards of glass fall in the light painting the walls in crimson, amber and brown
With the rest of my fallen leaves and broken glass I catch fire, smokin


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