Just because a flower withers,

Doesn't mean it's going to fade.

Like a flower, you're withering everyday,

You think it's meant to be that way.

Well, just so you know,

Wherever there is dark,

The moonlight will glow.

Wherever there is light,

The flowers will find it.

Sunsets-finally, it's quiet,

The moonlight hits a rose,

A flower on a gravestone,

Sinking into the darkness,

Soaking up the moonlight.

The storm begins to strike,

Petals withering, tearing-

They look worn and torn.

The living ignore that, though,

They remain a sight to behold.

They sit like a valuable on stone,

They don't die in the cold-

Beautiful and enchanting,

You're just misunderstanding;

Like the flower, you're still standing!