The cold pierces my skin
Taking knives to my bones
Digging deeper and deeper
Until I can't feel anymore.

But I can't go home.

The rain soaks through my clothes
Leaving patches of eternal cold
Extinguishing the final wisps
Of the fire in my heart.

But I can't go home.

Maybe it would be easier
To take put a gun to my head
To line my throat with cyanide
To quell this neverending torture.

Because I can't go home.

But I have no choice
Than to preserve part of myself
To regulate my body heat
To live a little more.

I don't want to die alone.