Autumn breeze—
November, my first scream at life,
I was born with a soul, but no soil.
Autumn breeze—
Leaves fall along a border,
searching for the soil of their roots.
Autumn breeze—
I am a twisted tree trunk,
my broken branches still reaching.
Autumn breeze—
A child sits leaning against me,
singing of love and freedom.
I was born in November, so autumn represents the beggining of life for me. And like all young people everywhere, I still hope and live with a dream for the future, no matter how twisted I become.
