An autumn breeze
rustles the leaves.
A crisp draft wafts through the window.
It awakens my thoughts.
Am I
just as cold?
The guilt rises to my cheeks, restores my blue lips pink.
Heat begins to spread through my body,
while the chill clings to my skin.
Cold and warm are warring,
much as my mind is stirring.
Am I to know my purpose
at 22-years-old?
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