in an ice-age we all searched for warmth.
cold nipping at our chest to reach what is underneath we trooped on-to warmer lands,
to find the cure to what seemed to harm us the most.

and in loneliness i searched for companionship.
sadness crept up my shoulders and shoveled under the layers of skin of my wrist to find the pulse,
but i kept searching blindly for someone i could call dear to me.

yet even when warmth is found on a tropical island near the sea, sun beating down on us hard
do we not confine ourselves to buildings filled with cold
so as to relive the troop, relive the search
to desperately find our own little struggle in aircon bills
and find faux hope in the blankets they sell 20% off?

and yet even when a friend is found
do i not still convince myself they are lying to me
and allow sadness to enter once more,
finding faults quicker than endearing traits;
so as to pity myself, boo-hoo, your so called love has betrayed you
and now you must search again for another