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Turning
The once white snow, now turned to slush, penetrates my socks, turning my feet the color of rust.
The snows journey, falling so perfect, now to the ground, preferring my circuit.
It messes with my mind, plays with my senses.
Interfering with my thoughts,
fooling with my lenses.
Once so right, now so dark.
We must wait for the end,
for this is only the start.
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