Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She was called Winter
because her hair was fair
and her eyes were always overcast.
Because her existence was as bare
as the leafless branches on the trees.

She was called Winter
because she despised the optimistic
and refused to believe
that a brighter future existed.

She was called Winter
because although she was beautiful,
her heart was cold
and the only ones who loved her
were the sad and the lonely.
Poem Series: People are like seasons
Perhaps the most significant
of all my struggles
in life
is the fact
that even my immense
love for words
fails to express
the way I feel when
you look
at me.
You're not heartless,
your heart just doesn't have a home
maybe you're homeless
with no place to call your own
and I know I'm no palace
but I could be
you're home sweet home.
"Home is where your heart is."

— The End —