A red thorned rose, dripping with rain
so filled with dew it starts to bend
the petals all fall and wilt with stain
it was only a matter of time till I felt like me again.

Some things pass, some things fade-like the color of leaves which autumn doth rend
ice cold marble, covering bouquets
it was only a matter of time till I felt like me again.

Sinewed threads piecing together a flag
now tattered and pleading for the tailor to mend
percieved by most as no more than a rag...
it was only a matter of time till I felt like me again.

Sickly shaped icicles, fading away
few see the beauty in their quiet sallow trend
marked by many but grow fewer by day
it was only a matter of time till I felt like me again.

I woke again this morning, but am still wishing for the end,
it was only a matter of time till I felt like me again...