Dec 2019
Nails are blue,
Skin is sore,
Hands are cuffed,
By the winter wind.
Cheeks blushing red,
Cold air whispering in ear
Dewy hair tucked in hood
Teeth chattering in monotony.
The last time I lived a happy winter
Is now living on a piece of paper.
I don't know why its so different,
Only skin feels the winter,
the mind is living elsewhere.
Skin is sore,
Hands are cuffed,
By the winter wind.
Cheeks blushing red,
Cold air whispering in ear
Dewy hair tucked in hood
Teeth chattering in monotony.
The last time I lived a happy winter
Is now living on a piece of paper.
I don't know why its so different,
Only skin feels the winter,
the mind is living elsewhere.
What my skin feels, my mind cannot reciprocate.
The carols are in the air, but my brain cannot process that the happy days are here.
The carols are in the air, but my brain cannot process that the happy days are here.
