Fading are my footsteps,
as I walk through a field of marigolds,
Flowers turn to quicksand
as I try to reach this house of gold
Vines grow from my eyes as fast as falling tears,
I must confess, I've seen a thousand ghosts,
but none of them as haunting
than the beautiful betrayal
of being blinded by the thought of you
Still, I'm sad to see
I died for a person that I never even knew
Sincerely, THE AUTHOR
