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Seasonal Depression

The grey sky

And the snowy rooftops

Blur together,

A panorama

In monochrome,

A mural that blinds

And burns the eye

Gazing upon it.

I close my curtains

Against the bright

And grey outside.

The snow muffles,

Drowns out sound

In its own white,

Icy waves of silence

Too complete

And too heavy,

To feel heard

To feel close to anyone.

I want to scream,

But I remain silent,

Frozen in isolation.

The cold numbs,

Fingers turn white

And tingle with

Too much exposure

To the world

Until the boundary

Between skin and air


I feel myself drift apart,

My being scattered

Like falling snowflakes.

The wind howls

A hollow warning

Through my window,

The trees stripped naked,

Shaking and shivering,

Barren and pleading

Against the gusts,

Bowing and begging for mercy.

I turn away from the sight,

The trees too familiar,

As I cower in my bed.

But spring will come.

It will bring blue skies,

Soft, young grass,

Gentle warmth,

And budding trees.

With open arms,

The earth will welcome

New life,

And I will walk

Among the flowers

And sing with the birds

Who have returned home.

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