These petals still hold the fragrance of the past, Thought it'd be forever but it didn't last.
I follow back the smell, To figure out where it went wrong, Not sure what it tells, I don't understand its song.
Maybe it was always meant to be this way, Flowers are supposed to wilt, The foundations gave away, On which we were built.
And by this time I should've become habitual, Losing the petals from the wilting flower is perpetual.
So I'm gonna do what I do best, Use my mishaps as my muse,
And for a while I must give it a rest, Chasing after these pollens is of no use.