Seasons of life

My home is a lucid dream themed in spring,

With warmth of a family; like summer,

But my illusion is limited, by the ticking,

Blades of a clock tower above the clouds,

The same clouds that were accountable

For the long rainy days , I experienced

Now I sway dead dusty debris of autumn

From my closed eyes, as I fear to be awake

In a reality seasoned by eternal, lonely winter.

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