Posted in My Poetry, Writing


As I succumb to winter’s fiery claws,
The shadows rise
And cloud my eyes;
I feel myself forgetting nature’s laws.

As icy hands grip hard my burning heart,
I feel it break
As I awake
To darkness, which on my soul leaves its mark.

Ice melts in spring as strife and sadness do,
But it’s too late:
Too deep in hate
I’ve found myself… Now death is nothing new.




Absolutely fantastic procrastinator. Creative, often irrational, hyperactive. Reader, writer, artist, photographer, film-maker, gamer.

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