Her answers are in the trees, she must have left them there.
A monotonous tone replaced where she should be.
So I sleep.

With the morning comes torment,
It has spoiled in my mind,
recollections; reflections you can’t see.

Falling from the trees,
I conversed with leaves.
But they can’t speak.
So I let them sit,
causing them to rot.
And the head holding thought to spill.
So I sleep.
While you weep.

c4c and stuff, suggestions?
...one suggestion, stop involving nature in a song that sounds like its personal at its core... and stop being so emo...