Snowed in, and towed out.
Pitter patter of the all about.
I'm about to burst;
the seams told me first.

But I won't hesitate,
I won't take no for an answer.
If they freeze me in and tear me up,
I'll just write about her.

You must realize that your place
is wherever exists your pace.
There's a hope
wherever I do find this scope
that I'll be able to understand.
And when the thought of rebuilding
forces me into the cold,
just give me your hand.

For me to look apathetically
toward the cracks in your skin
would be nothing less than a sin.
Your bruises outweigh
the most benevolent aspects
of any sunny day.