+the rain drowned all of the flowers last night as i sat and watched my future being stomped endlessly into the mud and i wanted an october sun where the months aren't so meaningless because the end is near and i think that i can make a fresh beginning everytime but it's useless because it's the same old shit year after year (calendar after calendar) and the only thing that's keeping me on this higher plane of writing is the fact that i always forget things don't get better with each passing year.

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