Id compare you as summers day but you are not always inviting,
Heavier then the burden of a deadman,
Not the eyes of a blind man,
Or the smallest molecule,
Could you be sweeter than death to a suicidal teen,
Maybe if hell wasn't always a truth,
You are not the sweetest summers day or the most beautiful of people, But to me, you are nothing I could ever describe and get it right, cause' I'd always be wrong in the rightest of ways