I’ve always hated winter.
That sharp cold wind blowing upon my skin
The violent crunch below my boots
As I watch my every step

Yet like all things,
A season is just a season
And what must come must go
Yet even the most futile things,
I try to hold on so desperately

Like a frayed rope,
Begging to tear apart,
My palms turn red with desperation
As my arms refuse to give out

Why put effort in fragile things?
Fragile things break apart and leave you
Until you yourself become fragile
And break apart as well