Spending cold winter days indoors,
I boil milk on a stove
to warm my stomachs
my hands clutched tight
around a hot mug
a restless urge to wander
and I find myself in the
snow covered garden
where I eat berrie,s recklessly
with little care as if
they are poisonous
self destruction is
inherent in me,
I go of on a whim
sometimes, a wild
wind of despair
I do not want to be
this cold, but there are
no flames hot enough
to thaw out the ice
that runs like
a spike through
my heart
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC
Spending cold winter days indoors,
I boil milk on a stove
to warm my stomachs
my hands clutched tight
around a hot mug
a restless urge to wander
and I find myself in the
snow covered garden
where I eat berrie,s recklessly
with little care as if
they are poisonous
self destruction is
inherent in me,
I go of on a whim
sometimes, a wild
wind of despair
I do not want to be
this cold, but there are
no flames hot enough
to thaw out the ice
that runs like
a spike through
my heart
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