The season of death’s around the corner
The first of its kind, she’s being honored
With passing faces and clouded whispers
Somewhat distant yet somehow blisters
She wants to fight it, hold on to memories
Of chasing winds, of senses blazing
Of scratches and bruises, of stargazing
Of falling and of being picked up
The time has come
Of falling and picking yourself up
And as she sees herself shrivel and slowly fade away
As she stands by a witness to her death
It’ll take time, but she’ll learn to rejoice in this act
Of letting go and celebrating the facts
Yes, somehow she’ll surpass
Revelling in her ashes, while paving new ways
Autums never last, the thirst’s never unquenched
Life finds its balance,heed to its way
The season of birth’s around the corner
First of its kind, she’s being honored.
Walkthrough 