Then, on repeat, the leaves fall, covering the forest path, brown, orange, yellow ones, then they disappear, only to return next fall, covering the paths in the park, temporary amnesia; I can't remember if I walked these paths with you.
musings to the witness within me, alienating to the strangers around me, a departure from meaningfulness, to just self-musings, and to destroy everything that I'm comfortable with. The tree has to accept that there will always be parasites around it. I'm talking to myself.
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