It is snowing on the flower-beds of my soul.
Winter, cold-blooded, vindictive bitch,
Has turned every last droplet of
Hope inside my cloud-shaped heart
Into icicles of sadness
Which prick and pierce through
The springtime of my illusions,
Raping me of all sunlight in my eyes.
From Winter's breath,
The most bitter winds reach my
face;
They sting and they abuse my skin,
Leaving my virginal lips frozen
shut,
Forcing me to swallow every single
word
For so long tickling the tip of
my tongue,
Words which now go down my throat
Like icecubes with razor-sharp
edges.
Strangely, tears,
Sorrow's cursed medicine,
Still come glistening down my frost-bitten
cheeks.
But Winter laughs as I cry
Over decaying dreams and fallen
wishes.
In her most frigid starless nights,
Winter bears no sympathy for the
lovelorn
No warm shelter for the shivering
and lonely soul.
***
I am as a snowflake,
Aimlessly drifting
Through this blizzard they call
life.
Special and unique I am;
There is supposedly no other snowflake
like me.
So why is it that even I can't
recognize myself
Amidst this swirling sea of white?