I go to pick flowers,
End up at the graveyard,
Oh my heart, even in the
Winter, there are roses
Standing tall, and they
Drip red, I wonder, are
They dipped in blood,
I wander barefoot,
Stumbling on graves,
They don't have names,
But I know them all,
My tears in the grass,
Fallen as the leaves
Fall too, oh the cruel winter,
The longest night approaches,
And I am afraid, what if the
Lights die and I have nothing
Left to burn, a tiny burden settles
On the sleeve of my dress,
Fireflies in the dead of the night,
They seem to tug me off the
Ground, I follow the fireflies,
Their bodies little lamps,
Lighting up my dark,
I follow the fireflies,
Deep into the woods,
Feeling my way around,
My feet pricking on thorns,
I leave a trail of blood behind,
As I follow the fireflies,


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