Me What is it in me that likes the dark? That feeds upon its silent charm? The dark that engulfs all, Sparing nothing. What is it in me that loves the rain? Swallowing those crisp cold shards? Coming from marbled skies, A symbol of despair. What is it in me that keeps regrets? Remembering mistakes as if a punishment? What if...'s, That never ever 'if'-ed. What is it in me that likes the winter? Cherishing the cold icy snow? The chill of the air, Frosty white lawns. Where dark is light follows. A glowing candle. Where rain is life follows. A glossy green tree. Where regrets are lessons are.        Not touching that hot pan again. Where winter is warmth follows. A cosy log fire. Back