Purple, pink, and blue
You bleed magnificent colors through and through
The cries of the wind speak of the truth,
But you are blinded by your forbidden youth.
An early riser you are
But your heart and mind are somewhere afar.
Some say cloud nine by chance,
I say an equally stolen dance.
Your tears are the rain
While you bask in your own pain.
The fountain of youth
Might not reveal the truth.
