The leaves of the trees have
lost their color,
and are falling
to the ground,
cold, and dead.
The air bites
at any exposed skin
and I can no longer feel
my fingers.
The sky is always
dark and dull.
There are
no sounds
of birds in the morning
when I wake.
There are no flowers
in the frozen ground.
And as I sit, on the frigid
cement,
I realize,
that I have no reason to be here,
once again.