There is nothing here for me to see,
In this season,
Only a plea,
For me to have reason
The leaves turn red,
The air gets cold,
I lay with the ashes spread,
And hope I too will turn to gold
I used to love this time of the year,
When death dances with nature,
Now there's nothing for me to nurture,
I'm surrounded by changes I cannot bear
Trees take on the color of your hair and eyes,
It kills me that we are under the same skies,
I wish you could hear my cries,
To everyone else I only spit out lies.
