Poem: Seasons of Destruction, Pt. I

Whatever the reason, it appears the season
In which we self-destruct;
There is no reason there should be a season,
And yet, it seems we must

Despite all our loves, the madness comes
As we grapple with ourselves;
And all our loves feel unspun
As we negotiate our Hells

Whatever the use of this abuse,
I hope it passes fast;
But I fear the truth is that this misuse
Will have effects that last

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

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