Like Everyone Else

I admit my heart is identical to the cold Winter.
It's black snow that's been hustled back into a far corner.
I question, is it my fault that I have grown bitter?
My own fault that I am crueller?

I am like the dead leaves that surrender in the Fall.
I slowly hit the the ground, constantly being step on.
I get smaller as feet crush me in the cool nightfall.
Soon I'll only be a stem, blown away, makeing life a con.

I'll watch them bloom in the Spring.
When the beautiful insects come out, I'll be underground.
Poor old me will never grow, but only have the curse of aging.
Now I am confound.

Why can't I be like them in the Summer?
Like others who did budge?
And here I relize this is the end of my chapter.
I regret holding this grudge.

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