From: Affio Buss

The leaves are red,
But they seem quite gray,
Lifeless to the touch,
Both night or day.
The cold whips your skin,
As tears begin to form.
Life almost seems calmer,
In the midst of a storm.
The boys have their drinks,
The girls have their fun,
You whither away,
Awaiting the sun.
But you don't seem to think so,
You think you're quite well,
Trapped and destroyed,
By the depths of a spell.