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Unbearable
Ron Morgan
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The scent of Autumn taunts me
seductively,
as I, alone, bear the heat
hammering me
in this deathly Summer.
For once,
I only want to hear
the soft, harmonious voices
of leaves,
reaching for God's earth.
Again,
I want to feel foreign skin
upon mine
for the first time.
Incoherent words rhythmically impale me,
while my flailing hands snatch empty air,
my body begging for shelter.
I sold my religion
for a moment
of self-destructive happiness,
and this sweltering Hell
is my regret.
Peaceful Autumn
has never felt
so far away.
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