The wind blows amongst the trees,
It pushes her down to her knees,
She hasn’t been having the urge to live,
Cant let the pain go like flour in a sieve,
But every night the wind returns,
No one knows or has concerns.

They forgot about her once she left,
He stole her heart like a petty
theft,
But he is just a simple boy,
After all the easy and simple girls,
He turned her heart to a plastic toy,
Breaking her down behind innocent curls.

Broken barriers expose her heart,
He has mastered this psychotic art,
And left her laying out in the rain,
Soaked and drench in her sorrow and pain.