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May 09, 2006 Autumn Comes The orange maple leaves flutter in the wind Signalling, announcing, floundering. The season of death, everlasting. Autumn. A lonely figure traverses the mountain slopes In search of his soul and humanity lost. He fights his way onward, climbs and gropes Lost in the darkness, entombed in frost. Will past mistakes return to haunt? Is love truly gone? Only he dost know, or does he know not? Perhaps he is tying himself dead knots. Soon, autumn will leave and winter come Perhaps only then will it be done. His life, his dreams all come to halt And maybe in the end he'll say 'It was all my fault'. Traveller fell apart at 10:46 PM
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