The lonely wolf howls at an empty sky, A broken whisper: Who am I? Si-adotchi, a cry ripped from the soul, Reflecting black roses, taking its toll. The sun, once vibrant, now a charring coal. Weep for my beauty, a fading grace, Weep for my pain, in this desolate place. Cry into fragments of half-written love, Whisper my yearning to the heavens above. Let my tears flow, a river of sorrow, Love me to kill me, just grant me a tomorrow... A tomorrow where you might return, for you I burn.

Roses are black, a symbol of blight, So is my heart, swallowed by night. My coffee in morning, a bitter, cold brew, Every sip a memory, aching for you. Ashes now sift from pages we once shared, Dreams we once built, now cruelly ensnared. Zoloft, my beloved, when are you coming home? Each breath a plea, never to roam. Zoloft was gone, a fox took her place, The fox wrote and withered, leaving no trace. A wolf now howls, its throat raw and sore, Jackson's lament for Killer, and so much more. But I, with my hair like twilight's soft hue, My neko heart, forever for you. Call me a cry, call me a fool, But love me again, break this desolate rule. My dear Zoloft, now and until I cease to be, And in the next life, still only for thee. For you, my love, for one last chance, A kiss I'll take, a final dance. For the stars they so fall when cherry blossoms weep, And that, my dear, is the promise my soul will keep.