Trudging through snow
in June, I guessed
that this is what
life feels like.

Its cold
unforgiving
a struggle
to achieve anything.

Those believers
reminding
all is well
what do they know.

Have they
finished it
their guarantee
positive outcome.

Like life
a warming sup
of whiskey
will ease.

Hope will
drive you mad
but is somehow
required.

Bitterness
is just a residue
left by
continuing struggle.

Nothing is infinite
I die a little
every single day,
bleak isn't it.