What Is Winter
What is winter?
Is it the last breath that leaves your lungs,
Or the biting edges of broken glass?
Is it the feeling of hopelessness when you've been left behind,
Or the decay of a flower crushed by cold drops of white?
Is it the howl of a rabid dog at the full moon,
Or the blackened heart of a corrupted man?
Is it a sinister secret so chilling it scorches,
Or an overwhelming feeling of hatred?
Is it the screech of a rabbit caught in a snare,
Or the cackle of a man with his sanity lost?
Is it the way one feels after being rejected,
Or the sounds you hear when you think you're alone?
Is it knowing you aren't a permanent fixture,
Or the thought of simply running out of time?
Winter is a haunting season,
Chilling as words of death on your lips.
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