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0 0%
3 38%
5 63%
Voters: 8.

Under frigid frost and frozen frore,
Polar blasts of numbing night,
I search for you, but search no more,
A brisk and brumal bleaking sight.

And through the tropics I will step,
My heart conditioned in air forsaken,
Back to Icebox, Where I've wept,
And all my love's been surely taken.

What sleety snowy snappy times,
Can fall below the dessert heat?
The chill that side-steps down my spine,
Is one the weather makes me meet.

My errors are clear, now that i've caught them,
A fool am I for missing Autumn.


Clinging to the tree they shake,
The breeze is bleak, and makes them ache.
Their final day is coming soon.
They bravely turn to face the cold,
Slowly turning red and gold,
Beneath the harvest moon

The needles left
All point and laugh,
“All that beauty, such a shame”
But deep inside,
They wish they’d died,
In that final burst of flame.


It’s easy when the weather’s nice,
And Mother Nature has no vice.
Every plant; each leaf and bloom
Flourishing in the sun without gloom.
But the as days grow shorter and the nights colder;
Mother Nature grows much bolder.
Some of the foliage begins to crumble;
The bite of the cold makes them tumble.
Yet other leaves enter their prime,
Insisting they best the other vines.
Bursting hues of red and yellow,
gaining glory while the others simply mellow.
Eventually, though, they too fade to brown,
Meet their fate and plummet down.
Once so proud and brilliant
Now proof they’re no more resilient.

Old Man Winter is aloof;
His frosty winds blow away the proof.
The once bright leaves now meld with the masses
More alike as each day passes.
Soon Mother Nature ends her cranky fit
And the sun comes out of its lazy pit.
The flora comes alive with buds so tender;
And everything blooms with great splendor.
The cycle will continue is everlasting
For the masses are always contrasting.
But those who are snooty should remember:
Everyone’s equal come November.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Please note that 2 go through from each group into the semis, 3 polls of 3 again, then 3 onto the final. So if one is far ahead vote for your second favourite.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.