February Snow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 01, 2018

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Submitted: September 01, 2018

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My life is like February snow,

It falls near the end of winter,

Preventing anything to grow,

Every time I wander,

I search in yonder,

For something too near, too dear,

To squander,

I’ll sit by,

To ponder,

And ask myself why I would even bother,

All that gets given turns bad,

Everything I work for breaks down a tad,

Even people I love turn around and get mad,

So I ask myself such a solemn question,

As to teach myself a lesson,

But since I no longer deserve confession,

I simply reserve it for digression.

 

My life is like February Snow,

It shows up fast,

And everyone I know wishes for it to go,

Every time I try to mend,

The broken do nothing but tend,

To their desperate need to rend, to send,

To hurt me,

They will try it all,

To destroy me,

And I fall, down to my knees, to try and see,

What truly has become of this thing I call me,

I turn away and scorn all who have been there to be,
Yet nothing I do seems to set me free,

So, I mount to the deadliest of places,

To try and jump free from all my fallen graces,

To attempt to run away from all the solemn faces,

Yet I could not do it and diverted back into my tragic cases.

 

My life is like February Snow,

Once it melts,

Everything once hidden will show,

Ever closer is the murmur of sadness,

From wandering around in this shadow; this madness,

The chill blows to,

All the way through,

Into the hapless,

Who reside quietly,

Just beside the lattice,

Yet they are not filled with deep malice,

Just a deep unforgivable cold,

One that fills up to the rim of the mould,

Destroying any previous recollection or lesson learned; new or old,

From the tragedy of living,

Poor souls wander in a world that’s chilling,

A world too cruel and intent on never stopping the killing,

One where everyone to anyone, even yourself, is unforgiving.

 

My life is like February Snow,

With each passing second,

My heart gets colder and slow,

Ever since the miseries have tortured me dry,

Tugging at me from all ends, all the way to the sky,

It takes all of me to continue, I try to wry,

But the rope is too strong,

The hope I once had is gone,

I whistle a song,

Till the break of dawn, knowing everything I have ever done had been wrong,

That every tension I would mention,

Nor every comprehension in a prevention,

Would stop this ascension into a terrible dimension,

Yet maybe it is not my fault at all,

Even the mightiest come to fall,

Even the rulers of kingdoms crawl,

When they have no one to call,

I have tried to roll the dice and show,

That every choice I would splice and stow,

Was the only one my heart of ice did know,

Ever since my life became like February Snow.

 


© Copyright 2018 Nicholas D. All rights reserved.

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