The clouds blow over

Like a breath of fresh air

The auburn trees whisper my name

And the wind wails its sorrowful song

Grass reaches out like hands whom don’t want to die

Nobody notices how many corpses there lie

With a slight flicker of my eyes, I lay back and relax

My tears burn into my face like a permanent trail of hot wax

My hair drips over my forbidden eyes

In attempt to shield me from the world outside

I dwell in my pit of pain and pity; my pound

Soil slowly drips like the hourglass’s sand; I’ll make my home in the ground