Withering away,
Like a flower in the winter.
Blowing my petals all over the world,
Letting them spread afar.
I stand not erect but hunched,
Glancing from side to side as the wind desires,
No will of my own.

Withered already,
Spring is so far.
My petals are no longer to be seen,
Washed away by the tears of the heavens.
I do not stand but rather lying,
On the earth I look, as I deserve,
Glaring at the last thing I admired.