The dead leaves fall like ashes,
slowly cascading against our bodies,
as we look up hoping for the better days.

They represent the good in us,
but there are times where,
the bad in us reflects from our true states,
and the bruise against society in an inexplicable, foul way.

Blinded by our visions of better ways, weeping willows swoosh at us. They cry from above us, looking down with faded emotions.

—NOTVANTE