Autumn East

Can one story truly identify a person?



I am that I am.


Complete, with no reservations and prejudices, always reaching out for more.

Down south, the winter is cold, separate, and bias.
In the hot north, it's too humid and stifling, with no room for improvement.
Out west, the spring begins with too many promises being unfulfilled.

Approach his door - it is locked.
Talk to his friends.
Look at his past record.
Think outside of yourself.

An older man with golden skin, and bright brown eyes.
Does all the documentation tell you what's beyond this disguise?
Does the honesty, intellect, compassion, and loneliness?

The world outside is too slow, barren, unrelenting, and unchallenging. He then went and...




But I...



If I were a richer man.
If I were not as greedy, selfish, self-centered, self-reliant, introverted, suspicious, and stress prone.

I guess one too many people let me down.
I guess only a chosen few had lifted me up.


Have you not read the stories?
Have you not the time?
Then, why did you ask?

For a word is valuable these days.
It is very hard to keep.
It is all that I have.

I'm preparing for the long, lonely winter.
Settling down in this change of life.
So I turn another corner, just around the bend.

Approach my door - in the cool of the day.
We'll introduce ourselves, with nothing to say.

Then talk about what I have.
Then look at my face.

What do you want from me?
What can I give you?

The human condition put to the test in an unnoticed instant.

We'd put it all together.
But we all live in neutral corners.


Do we know each other so well?


I'm preparing for school with the falling leaves.
Why do you grow so cold as you leave?

I then overhear you call me, "A Beautiful Beast."



Call me Autumn East.