By Arcassin Burnham

With your hair through the air,
when your soul is to spare,
I cry,
Honest ways through the trees,
When you just wanna be free,
I cry,
My initials flow through your head,
Don't want to let you know that I'm dead,
I cry,
Sadness ***** a lot even in high contrast,
You can not overcome or surpass,
You cry.