After the period of regret,
Approaches the season of thanksgiving,
Where the foolish acts committed under the presence of an egotistical mind,
Are fragments of a sad faded memory.
Moments such as these; the helpless minutes,
Where the downtrodden characters are figures of sympathy to our wretched souls.
Pain that cannot be cured by a mere indulgence in ecstasy,
Escaping the thrills of mundane delirium for a supernatural alternative animated in the dells of memory,
Contemplating red jellies colliding in tanned palms,
Or drowning in visions of viridescent slabs to embellish.
✾themeekarestillhere✾
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