As the ink rises, drawing patterns in the sky,
Blotted by black, this red cries into me,
I have no recollection of a time without my words,
I have no place to be, other than my worlds.
So if you lose me here, I’ll be gone for good,
I’ve found solace in the safety of an ink stained book,
Through adversity I rise, through seclusion, I fall,
Without me, you’ll paint your own patterns, into your skin.
I stain your world, with my halo crushing down,
The red bleeds the black, and the world begins again,
Autumn traces patterns in me, that I’ve never seen,
This is a new dawn, for a new day, all without me.