Always there

Innocent as it can be

I always seem to foresee

What happens to you and for all?

My love, my true is what was to call

Love is evil, things separate

Those cornstalk locks never at abate

Crying endless tears, throwing fits

Cruel this fate and time have given this.

There is no way to get over it

No cure, no antidote for this pitfall

All to do is sob and morn

Hoping one day it will be sworn to true colour.