Between ice cold lemonade and hot cocoa,
I am human,
While bundling up due to the breeze,
I think thoughts such as these.
A pumpkin patch lays innocent,
Until we begin carving pumpkin children,
We easily open these vegetables,
As we forget our own lying in a hospital bed,
We manipulate to our own will the becomings of a pumpkin,
While laying pumpkin guts down in a bowl,
We are distracted from what our lives hold.
While carving a pumpkins flesh,
We don’t consider what carvings we’ve left,
On another’s body and existence.
Behind every mask is a thousand sinners,
Easy to hide with pride,
The sight of bags of candy all appears dandy,
Until we must face reality.
Wake me up when September ends,
October closes its doors,
And November has nothing more to be thankful for,
Fill me with the sorrowful comfort of December.
Make us remember why we always fall in autumn,
Knowing it is almost the end,
About to begin a new year with false cheer and ambitions,
For a different future near.