It creeps in through every hour, this ache.
It's all I have to know that I can feel.
Sometimes the cold's enough for me to wake
and all this time I question if it's real.
To spend hours sitting without moving,
thinking of a thousand thoughts to distract
but each effort falls short in improving
a positive way for me to react.
Each day I yearn for words to raise me through,
for it all to just have been in my mind.
And with each wish I realize what's true:
Even at the best of times, life's unkind.
Smiles and exchanges are just for show,
to ensure that there's nothing wrong at all.
But it's hard to hide how much shadows grow
and confide in, with each unwanted fall.
Frost has rooted where joy once had full reign,
it keeps me from finding care in actions
that push me further still from tasks to gain
and places efforts in dull distractions.