I walk through the woods,

Not knowing where I’m going.

I stop here and there,

I look for hope everywhere.

I see a rose, and I pick it up,

I start to bleed from its picky thorns.

I see a frog, but won’t pick it up,

It’s colors spell poison.

I stumble upon a tree,

Its leafs all gone.

I look at the ground, so dead and brown,

I pick up a leaf and turn it over,

Nothing but colors of death bestowed upon it.