under the horizon
above the naked earth;
i'm half drawn to the sky
and half to my skin;
along with the flowers
of december, wilting.

but, It's half a fine day.
and I'm half convinced.
the day, is yet to end.
and if after all, i am failed;
to be fully drawn to the sky,
ever i lay to cold, until it warms.

i have scars all over my body.
ones that you see,
and ones that you cannot see—
engraved deeper in my flesh;
down the bones,
penetrating my whole soul.