once upon a winter,
a storm made a victim out of you,
and so you sleighed to warm embracing arms,,
but they called your feelings out as faulty,

you tried to supress the past,
indulged the present,
and disregarded any grudges into spring,
but you didn't linger for warmth anymore,
your heart ached in ways it hadn't before,
you doubted the only soul residing in your body,

sleep was your only escape from reality,
but your dreams were forearmed,
trapping you back to a survival
which you felt unfortunate to have,
next thing you know,
you become a living metaphor for, "can this get any worse?",