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My Darkest Hour

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Walking home from school I glance into the sky
So gray and lonely like a dark regret
A crow passes above me
Cracking the silent air overhead
Deadened leaves from a past summer slosh against
Dirty and wet school shoes
My faded pink bookbag pulls against my already tired like a dead weight
House after house I pass, and I look towards the windows
Which serve as small portholes of another world
I slowly touch my ears, reddened from the winter's bitter cold
Hoping to regain some warmth
My hopes are drowned immediately after they're lowered
I quicken my pace
Houses passing, blurring
At last I reach my familiar brick house
Covered in the bright lights of Christmas, that flash upon
The red and white for-sale sign.





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