By Nikoli Weir

All beauty fades with the light of the day,

All human beings must succumb to fate.

On its bed of death your love soon shall lay,

For it came too early and stayed too late.

Like late autumn snow, gone when the sun sets,

Melted into water, drank by the dirt.

A heart of sorrow, a mind of regrets,

A being consumed by sadness and hurt.

A tortured soul at the heights of despair,

Eaten by frigid flames of solitude,

A woeful heart caught in love’s lustful snare,

Torn apart by a great internal feud,

To pursue or to brokenly resign?

To accept fate or to brave the climb?