I wrote this one this morning. Ehh
The Winters cry would be so bare,
If no soul thought to stop and stare.
The beauty of death would it be called,
The sheer of cold, yet the force of love.
A thousand lights could light up,
But none would compare to winter.
A lifelong time of hardship and struggle,
Where 4 months will bring its worst.
Only a quarter of the cup to the seasons of all,
Sixteen weeks to bring you hell.
The ice to vanish, yet it's still there.
The world's a stage, but what if you fall?
The snow melts and hardens and melts again,
To find a way into the safest of places.
Sixteen weeks of living hell,
Cast upon a beauty spell.
The weeks are long,
The road is tough…
But next will comeforth spring.
