The April leaves color the sky, which glows blue, gleaming along with the sun. The April breeze softly blows into my hair, almost a whisper, as it flows past me. April Spring, the rawest form of beauty.
Unlike you, April, yet another title you don't deserve. Your hollow, frozen cold heart, couldn't understand Beauty, if it hit you in the face, and broke your huge nose.
You're not like April, which casts it's beauty to all, And brings in the sweet smell of spring. Your smell, is Putrid, bathing, is not part of your monthly routine. April, bathes in the Spring showers, as the sky rains over it's perfection.
You are not, what you seemed to be.
