Alas, Autumn… do not fear, my dearest
We are both misunderstood
Thou art the one who welcomes me
As I sweep through thy portals I shall now relieve thee
From thy colorful melancholy and sorrowful fatigue
From every word of betrayal
hangs upon an icicle of misery
a collection of tears of my past, now frozen
I mourn Man’s false dreams
And the ones who think me a fool… shall lay before me,
bleeding red crystals upon my frigid smile…
into my wet, white grave
So I can touch their suffering yet feel no remorse
They pray to Summer… but they sacrifice unto me…
