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You'll never catch her in color, cause black is her favorite.
If you tell her your feelings, she'll tell you to save it.
Her soul is like glass, so weak it could shatter,
But her mind keeps her strong, reminds her what matters.
But then there's this thing, that beats in her chest
She don't know how to use it or how to make it feel less.
It takes up her time, it takes up her mind,
It takes up her days and she can't rewind.
She looks at her life and it's so full of color,
The one thing she hated as the beating thing grew fuller.
She smiled yesterday and it made her feel new,
Now all her blacks just happen to be blue. ♡A.