mirrors of affection, should I love our last reflection.
Brocken, we both had issue yet now rotten, forgotten by them who cheered not to cleaer our path.

your name like raindays, fog with my painful eyes, reddish in color pride was ours. yet the story went blue, they don't remember our us, like the rumours never spread.

seventeen you left, that was eighten, now twenty and digits we passed, my sunset gone never to return.

© Raincodes