What are you made of,
What makes you smile.
A shadow in your past,
An evenings delight.
Recalled like the wind
Effervescence of the mind.
What makes you cry,
What makes you hurt.
How do you fall,
How deep does it cut.
The thorns stays,
Beauty unaltered by the blood on the tip.
A crown of sorrow,
Royalty of pain.
What are you made of?
Asked the midnight gale