Like jaded leaves in the dawn of autumn,
water droplets fall from my eyes.
I have wasted my time trying,
trying to do what--you say--is right.
My strength has withered.
Like a flower in the dead of winter,
I have a choice to make.
Will I die from the
breath
of your cold heart,
or will I bloom again?
My strength has withered,
but I will choose to fight.
Like a vine in the breach of summer,
I will go my own way,
unhindered by your boundaries
and unrestricted by your careless words.
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