The snow is white.
What a delight.
But the sky isn't bright.
My mind has lost its light
Undeserving of hope.
My mind has gone blank
Such as a slate.
I can't help but to feel,
This is my fate.
Pain and misery grows among me.
Let alone growing inside me.
The pain I feel is unreal.
Yet so surreal.
Things I feel aren't things I've seen.
And things I've seen aren't things I feel.
The snow is white and pure as I stare at it.
But as I step it fades to black and withers away.
My touch so poisonous it kills the pure.
Murders the innocent and slaughters me whole.
I love the snow.
Yet snow hates me.
