And, even though it’s cold outside,
It’s colder in my heart;
My very will to live has died,
And wholeness falls apart.
I’m in the mood to dig my grave
And lay my body down,
Or crawl inside some flooded cave
And, in the darkness, drown.
And yet my being isn’t swayed
By feelings of despair;
I mean it’s not as if it’s made
Of any sort of care.
Self-knowing’s beating at its core,
And that is what I’m living for.
Photo by Ainārs Cekuls on Unsplash
Winter Mood
