In the dark, I weep,

as in the air, fumes, I smell.

Alive I may appear to be,

but my soul now burns in Hell.


Memories of happiness in my hands,

memories of watching it swim away,

now, left am I, to wonder,

why I still live to see the day.


The sky has promised joy,

December winds dragged me along,

the leaves had whispered, that you were for me,

and now, I bleed, for they were wrong.