It's easy to blame everything on the winter,
But it's June, and the world should be in bloom.
Yet my heart remains icy and cold,
Lost in shadows and thoughts of doom.
The sun shines bright, but I still feel the chill;
Memories of warmth are now distant and still.
Time's passage stings with its bitter truths,
And love lost in summer's vanishing youth.
It's easy to blame everything on the winter,
But it's June, and joy feels like a splinter—
A cut that always bleeds,
A wound unseen, where happiness recedes.
The days stretch long, and yet the night grows deep,
In this cave where my secrets sleep.
Each smile a mask, each laugh a sigh,
As sorrow echoes across my sky.
It's easy to blame everything on the winter,
But it's June.
Turns out, it's not the season that brings this sorrow,
But a heart weighed down, unsure of tomorrow.
