COLORS

Orange

The midst of cold September nights greet me again.

The leaves once full of vibrancy have now turned to the shade between warmth and shivers,
And just before they were holding on so tight, but now they cannot control their fall;
They didn't even need the cold hands of a soul to pull them to the ground.
The tick of the clock decided that their time was up, that it was their call 
And they've seen enough.
And humans who fall like these leaves have to clean up the mess on the streets.

The same shade lines the houses full of decorations shedding terror and screams,
It's that time of the year again, when unwrapping candy felt like opening a Christmas gift,
When we dress up as princesses and soldiers in disguise,
When we become the characters we want to live or we are frightened of,
When we let the dead come back to rise,
Even in just a rotation of 24 hours.
But tell me,
Can I dress up as my own demons in my head?
I'm sure it would petrify someone, the same way I'm filled with dread.

But these days aren't so bad.
After all, it's printed with all the first memories I had with you. 

It's all just Orange,The season of death.