Everything passes. It has to. That's the beauty and tragedy of it.
That fall, it was her fall from grace
When the leaves turned russet and gold
She found she could wear more than one face
And love, her heart could no longer hold
That fall, she knew she’d lost something precious
Maybe her path, maybe her goal
And while she pursued pointless pleasures
She found she’d instead lost her soul
That fall, she learnt she had joined the crowd
Of the doomed, the desperate, the feigning fake
Her hopes lay buried under an unrelenting shroud
And disillusionment was all that lay in its wake.