The Illusion of September

Sitting down and thinking back on who we want to be and where we expect to be going is like thinking upon September as a family member. Remembering the peaks and troughs and the emotional rollercoaster that every family has, when it hits us that September is an illusion. Maybe not an illusion for fact, but a symmetrical metaphor for why we do the things we do. Why we walk before we run, why we chew before we talk, and why we distance ourselves from those who try to help us. We wonder if we're broken, lost, or just confused; we're none of those things.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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