A weary soul endures the long cold night.
Pain turns into ice ,too frozen to fight.
No warmth can melt away
all the cries I locked inside a jar.
Happy giggles fade into echoes, from afar.
My flowers died in the absence of sunlight
the rain over-watered their fragile heart.
No one wanted to make a golden hue
the house of memories remains empty,
winter leaves its sorrowful clues.
Heartache echoes along the walls.
Every silent cry dries into hollow paint.
You know… it’s hard to bite your own pillow—
when you’re trying to tuck in
a clueless sob to sleep.
Winter is lonely
and its end seems even lonelier.
So unfortunate
to drift into a final sleep
without those seven beautiful breaths
this world never let me keep.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 4:33 AM UTC
A weary soul endures the long cold night.
Pain turns into ice ,too frozen to fight.
No warmth can melt away
all the cries I locked inside a jar.
Happy giggles fade into echoes, from afar.
My flowers died in the absence of sunlight
the rain over-watered their fragile heart.
No one wanted to make a golden hue
the house of memories remains empty,
winter leaves its sorrowful clues.
Heartache echoes along the walls.
Every silent cry dries into hollow paint.
You know… it’s hard to bite your own pillow—
when you’re trying to tuck in
a clueless sob to sleep.
Winter is lonely
and its end seems even lonelier.
So unfortunate
to drift into a final sleep
without those seven beautiful breaths
this world never let me keep.
