As my colors change and the wind nips at my face
I know there isn't much time left.
I pray I'll get a thank you this year.
But I'm just getting my hopes up.
I'm losing my grip on the only tether that keeps me home.
The days pass slowly when I'm aware of my impending doom.
The third sun sets and I shake in the cold.
Finally breaking away.
Falling.
Drifting.
Nearing my cold hard grave.
They think it's beautiful.
If only they knew.
It can be such a burden but
True love is sacrifice for the sake of those who take you for granted.