Leaves of orange, gold and brown,
Fall past my frown,
As my black soul walks down,
This old withered path.
Colour falls from the willows,
Gathering on the ground like pillows.
A dark silhouette in a world of bright hues,
Colour bleeding from multiple views.
My eyes mirrored in yellow & red,
Masking the darkness within my head.
The sun shines down,
But through my eyes,
The sky cries.
I never look so black,
If I stick to my own track.
