Tis Be the Winter Season.
Tis be the Winter Season,
Cold, depressing and lonely at best.
People are dying, and I'm tired of trying,
I just hope I can get some rest.
Late nights and puffy eyes,
How can anything be worse?
Ah, it's freezing out, and I'm also sick,
This is how it gets worse.
Overly emotional with a side of anxiety,
Depressive and suicidal thoughts as a topping,
Wow, what a wonderful desert for death,
My only worry is when this will be stopping.
Cold, rainy, windy, and nature's dying,
What's the point in living this life?
Happy during the day and self-destructive by night,
Not sure how much longer I can live this lie.
Numb inside so I sit outside,
I do freeze, but at least I'm feeling;
That way I know I'm alive, so that's fine.
I only hope I will start healing.
I'm hoping this is just a bad dream,
But I'm beginning to believe it's not.
Been stuck in this routine for days now,
This needs to stop happening a lot.
Yes indeed, tis be the winter season,
But I'm sick, and I'm tired and want out,
I hate the winter months, and I want some sleep,
And this is what this poem is about.