When ever you see snow
You never suspect it to be cold.
It's white and soft and pure,
And easy to taint.
It's beautiful, but sharp when the
Wind blows and it swirls
Like deadly, gorgeous shrapnel.
I feel too akin to snow.
Unlike snow, I know I am not beautiful.
But I am fierce underneath.
I will pierce you with my words
My songs
My shrill, voice.
You can hear my pain like how you can feel snow's harsh cold.
Don't tell me I am like the sun with it's rays that no one stares at but appreciates with warmth.
I am only snow.
And I only know the cold.
YOU ARE READING
Poems That I Form
PoetryI ask for no comments, votes, or anything. This is a place I can rant quietly without anyone needing to be a mandated reporter.
