A Little Truth Still Wandered,
In The Crook Of Your Vanishing Smile,
Your Eyes Were Dull As A February Evening,
As They Pierced My Own With Such Force,
A Wilting Sunflower Stared From Outside,
It's Petals Bleached From Jack Frost's Fingers,
Mirroring The Strength Which Scurried Away,
From My Burried Conscience