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Relapse
Fall is starting to whisper your name again;
I can feel its breath through these windows,
starting to send chills up my spine.
This was always your favorite season
but how ironic was it that it brought in all this sickness.
In October, you said you didn’t want this place to be your graveyard
for this is not where your soul rests;
however, I couldn’t help but to notice,
the ghost who sits in the corner,
telling me I should be the one dead.
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