Leuce

I'm not sure why every leaf must die...

Though, surely the leaf is the same as I.

Is it envious of the likes of the cypress and pine?

Surely, it is as jealous and greedy as I.

Is it vain in it's golden-auburn dyes?

Surely, it is as prideful as I.

Does it long for sacchrine pleasures of lecherous light?

Surely, it is as gluttonous and covetous as I.

Does it rage in a tempest and lay idle in a silent night?

Surely, it is as wrathful and langourous as I.

I'm not sure why every leaf must die...

Though, suely the leaf is the same as I.