Your ray of sunshine hath died. <br>Perhaps the things I thought true Were nothing but deafening lies, A façade. You were like a sister to me Always a shoulder to cry on. The room no longer glows a golden hue as you enter a room, But a meer blue-gray that suggests a storm is brewing. You used to make those storms stop. Your smile and your eyes would bring out the pastel-colored rainbow and frighten the charcoal clouds back to their slumber. Tell me, why do I sleep with those clouds at night now? Why does that same smile frighten me, as well? How come your eyes embalm me with flames while they used to extinguish them with streams of blue? Where hath my best friend gone? I have not yet received bandages for these wounds.