Outside, the snow falls.
Inside, I am stabbed at heart;
I have been cast out.
--------
With pencil in hand,
lazy Sunday afternoon
shows me uninspired
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Snow is in the air
and the sky is a grey mass -
Winter's sad beauty
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there will come a day
when my heart will stop condemning me
and that day will be
the day of my death
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Do you ever just want to completely unravel
and then let the yarn of your body
be knitted into something warm and new?
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