With an autumns fall
I saw my love.
And at winter's bloom
I realized the truth.
Love should be
what people think.
Not what they
show it to be.
On spring's eve
it all ended.
And still I ask
'why do I remember?'
When all I want
is to forget.
A love thought to be true,
even if just be my;
not you.
And now, at start of summer
I realize it was just desire
(what a bummer)
Now I know a lot of things.
Seasons come unexpctedly.
For one way or another
they'll always have
a slight sense of mystery.
Seasons come and go as they please.
Seasons come and go.
Like a human's love
or a perfect glow.
That's what happened,
and now i know
love comes and goes
like the season's flow.