At the end of the day, they will look for the worst version of you.
Good actions will be overlooked, and you will be taken for granted.
They will dig your soul for whatever it is they consider as dirt.
They will make you feel as if there is something wrong with you.
And you—you ask yourself what should be done.

You have not one, but two options.
Either you fight and go against the current,
Or become a slave of their judgments.

If you fight, expect that there will be more coming;
every stench of your soul will be revealed
and they will not stop
until they have dragged you down

And if you become a slave of their judgments,
you might think you are in peace;
But contrary to this, you have a bigger enemy.
Yourself.

Warmth has arrived,
Blissful sun rays that kiss upon skin
With the tenderness of a parent's embrace.
It starts in the tissue of my face.

It seeps a little deeper,
Pervading my infinite layers
As if it dreams of warming my soul.
However, it cannot fill the hole.

The heat has come at last,
The season has shifted from cold
To blistering, filling warm.
Yet it does not end my storm.