There are several reasons,
For a girl to sulk.
It could be the seasons,
Or just life in a bulk.
The deep red of the plum,
Would be a nice life color
The girl, but she's glum,
And she's got a pallor.
She wonders if its age,
Or if its just a phase.
A moment its rage,
The other - tears on her face.
Is she crazy or a fool?
She wonders nowadays
She used to be cool,
This lady in the phase.
She's got nice things,
And love and all.
Yet she swings,
To this melancholic ball.
She tries to remember,
Those who have less.
Who shiver in December,
Without a warm dress.
So what's wrong with her,
This silly dilly girl.
Where occurred the err?
For which her thoughts swirl?
What would make her happy?
And get her lips to curl?
To remove this mood so crappy,
The flags of smiles to unfurl?
If truth be told,
I'll tell you this.
Neither diamond or gold,
Will give her that bliss.
What could be the reason?
For my untold woes?
Is it really the season?
Or what the deuce?!
