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Nature Depression Poems | Nature Poems About Depression

These Nature Depression poems are examples of Nature poems about Depression. These are the best examples of Nature Depression poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Epic | |

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

ONE WORD~

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my mind,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my veins,
                                   
A silica odor, dust walks through a fresh desert night
Cool air beneath and above the sea
A warm furnace smell, I don’t understand
Intricate to rise and receive without knowing
Up ahead in a virtue distance
A mysterious poisonous effluvium light-     
My face feels like a leaf'
My sun holds up its own pendulum rods
Inflammation comes and settles in for the night,
There it stands in a pertinacious manner, with quality
I resurrect this air created from madness, all over again
Twilight, rain stranger than strange
Visions, pursue my path into an infested dark pasture
"From the red Heaven I fell into the waters of a cobalt Hell"

Perhaps this venerable moment, will pass slower than slow
PERHAPS NOT!
If I accept, and then decline
Would this balance the precocious state I live in?
How about when wrong directions follow my promiscuous ways 
Is my conglomeration of ideas, no longer safe?	
When I no longer value the values of the young
Will I sleep at the mercy of his ancient heart
They're the voices give and take from our health

Today, those soft, perfect eyes are calling from far away,
Ashes high, vapors and infection welding me
The bright skies swallow every thin silver line,
Where the clouds sit somehow~ in bacteria
UNITY! 
YES UNITY! Fantabulously-fantastic!
Always, wanting more than love can touch

We are living' it up with no alibis!
A way to be and not to BE!
The champagne leaves their cup
Awaken in a life, disturbed ~ NOW INTERRUPT!
Only in this world, lava will reach her lips
Prisoners and doers; 
All night…. Too late for a treatment
Lungs, decaying, evil rats
Direction, affection, ending all the inhalation

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my lungs,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Flat-lined my life ____/\ /\___ ___/\______/\___ _______________

By; pd


Details | Rhyme | |

Remnants

Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years

And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....



Details | Classicism | |

Karma

Karma was my best friend...
Until I fell for her deceitfulness...
She always had my back when others would try to harm me...
I would laugh at her and the way she would play with others emotions...
Not knowing that I would fall as one of her victims...
See Karma is mysterious...
I guess that's why she is perfered as a female dog...
She has no feelings...
That's why she always wins her battles...
Me and her never see eye to eye now...
I guess we're to much alike...
I also have no feelings...
Some may say that's impossible, being a human with no feelings...
Possible...
See,  My mother is Sorrow...
My girlfriend is Pain...
My enemy is Fear, I have none...
I came in the world naked...
So Karma can't take anything from me that is rightfully mine...
So when I leave this Earthly Hell...
I will leave, knowing that I have won the battle that no one else has ever 
Concorde...


Details | Narrative | |

Sacred

Here, the Leaves Engulfed themselves 
in Glorious Golden Symphonies 

Here, the Trickling and Tepid waters
Silked over Smooth Stones

Here, is where we Lay for Hours,
Together under oaks shadow

Here, you enjoyed brief Slumber as
I Ran my fingers through your Hair.

and it is

here, I keep you Sacred, as I lie 
Alone within the Shade.


Details | Haiku | |

Texas Wildflower Haiku : Widow's Tears

sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse

Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on 
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning 
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly 
approachable. [1]

[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson


Details | Free verse | |

An Early, Experimental Poem of Alternate Lines

The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze.  A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the wind and rain its yellow
across my face.  The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence.  A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around.  A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs.  Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck.  Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine.  The trees --
appearance.  Altogether so.  Oh well.
Quiet.  Steady.  Sturdy.  Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.


Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Rhyme | |

A Soul Awakened

She is the muse to her own sorrow; She is the digger of her grave. She is the painter of her ocean view and every fatal wave. She is the shadow of her Father; She is the darkness in your sight. She is the night without the stars surrounding pale moonlight. She is the music with no words; She is sweet love without the reason. She is your dreamer with submission cold by warmth with every season. She is your pet with cold intentions; She is your baby scared and shaken. She is the bold and pure- the lost and found, She is a soul awakened.


Details | Rhyme | |

Flood

Waters rise, engulf the land and other ruses
we devise to block their flow, to stem the tides.
Anxious, we are left to ride the waves
on fragile barques bereft of sails.
Such flimsy arks (mere barrel staves
and baling wire) float up the sides
of great sea-risers, like defiant snails
awash in slime. In time, seabrine looses
collective holds on congealed excuses
and in salt solution we dissolve.
To silver fishes we soon devolve
while worlds and stars, giants and dwarfs,
fade from mind like boats from wharfs.
And when to darker depths we dive,
will fishes miss us? Shall we survive
apart from sky, from air, from dry?
When at last we gasp and die
will crabs cavort? Can fishes cry?


Details | Free verse | |

Deaf and Gone

I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 


Details | Rhyme | |

Rising from the Ashes

RISING FROM THE ASHES

Wordancer


The eyes of the dragon seen through the trees
Mesmerize minds and cause bodies to freeze.
Which way to go, which way to turn;
No time for questions when the trees burn.

Just jump in the cars and flee towards town
But the road is cut off as the wind swings around.
No way to go, no way to turn; 
An acceptance of fate, as the trees burn.

The fence of the paddock does not impede
The scorched car that flattens it, picking up speed
Away from the flames, away they must turn
Desperate with fear, as the trees burn.

The breath of this beast lights fires with no flame
The heat of its breath burn all just the same.
It’s tail flames on, it’s head, see it turn
Back towards town, there are more things to burn.

With fire, smoke and tears these folk have learnt
To rise from the ashes; spirits singed; not burnt
A call for assistance, now the schools turn 
To grey squares of ashes; and more townships burn.

The calls went out across this wide country
And the offers came from all and sundry.
What do you need? What can we bring you?
They were told, so they went; what else would they do?

Hand towels, toothbrushes, soap and shampoo
To clean away ashes; the soot, and tears too
Through fire and smoke, these folk have learnt
To rise from the ashes; spirits singed; not burnt

The towns’ people will labor as long as there’s need,
They’ll listen and learn and plant as they weed,
While their houses and schools, fire stations too,
Rise from the ashes, and stand good as new.  

The February Dragon has left for a time,
But hope that heals the scars in the minds
Of the people there, is strong and alive,
They have rebuilt their towns, their dreams and their lives.  

© 


Details | Rhyme | |

Natures Test

Branches reach out to the sun Ocean waves push to the shore Raindrops falling, one, by one Natures lust will reach for more The burning hatred in my chest Burns in my soul and to my core Bounded due to natures test My greedy hands will reach for more


Details | I do not know? | |

nature of things

Life is dying in a soul;
And the soul is the vault of life 
Hope is killed by a goal;
And the goal is holding the knife.

What’s a soul when life is dead?
And what’s a goal when hope is killed?
A skilled tailor without a thread;
Or a raining sewer which is filled.

Dream is choking in a sleep;
And the sleep is the gas of the dream.
An eye is unable to weep;
And the tear turns into steam.

What’s a sleep without a dream?
And what’s an eye without a tear?
A born baby without a scream;
Or a sense of courage drowned in fear. 

What's a poem without a verse?
And what's a sentence without a word?
a wicked witch without a curse;
or a brave knight without a sword.


Details | Hybronnet | |

Winter Blues

Old winter's bite has bruised my cheek
like parchment my thin skin crackles.  
Indoors I hide, my bones creak,
my fragile form in cold shackles. 
Unwanted guest please desist, oh leave,
return the warmth of sunny skies
and springtime's gentle flowery weave.
Be gone, go, this aged maiden cries.
For I've no use for your howling,
your ice lakes or snowy trees;
there's no sense in all your growling
jail key's which rattle don't appease. 
So, leave me now, go softly, go
silently, sweetly, take the snow.


Date: 1/26/13


Details | Ballade | |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


Details | Couplet | |

The Bird Sings

If I were a bird, would you clip my wings
then cage me away with pretty things?
And, if my wings were to be clipped
why not just burry me within a crypt,
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
For to have wings that cannot soar,
then why not nail me to the floor?
Tonight I shall make my final swan song
knowing I have been locked away so long.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant so kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So still the caged bird, she sings
without her sky, without wings.
Sometimes laments, sometimes sighs,
sometimes she whistles her own reprise.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So then curious is it, the caged thing
who finds she has the heart to sing?
Because it would seem a great strain
to be caged seems twisted and profane,
for a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
When asked, why do you sing, bird?
The answer is a simple word,
hope, for escape from behind these bars
that keep me caged from the stars.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
Birds should have no master, no kings
and love cannot be clipping wings.
But now it seems I must live confined,
in this hand crafted cage of your design,
but a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So must I wait for these wings to heal
and relearn how the wind may feel.
If I must be caged, still my heart sings
of the day I can again use my wings.


Details | Rhyme | |

My mother, my earth.

Into the light I see,
with rays in clouds and warmth in me.
Brittle is the air around,
no voice is there, nor sweeter sound.

Within my scars and broken back,
there are my kin, there love I lack.
The oceans turn, therefore I weep,
Is it truly my tears to keep?

Now the mountains begin to fall,
like sand and dust to death they call.
I hear my children bleed and cry,
there bellies thirst and almost dry.

Some will seat and eat there fill,
"lets help them now, so now we will!
His mother would find pride within,
a pretty thing this life of sin.

Alas, my days are almost through,
my breath, my flesh and heart is too.
Let this be my final song,
for war alone is for the strong.

Into the night I see,
is there still love left for me?


Details | Free verse | |

In the Shallows

           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Loosing It

  < Early morning,

   Its rainy and dark,

   Quit dull,

   Cloudy and gray,

   Emotions flowing not,

   So dim and sadden,

   Stuck in a zone,

   Feeling all alone,

   Suddenly blacken,

   Now dressed in lace,

   And black satin,

   Emotions flowing all over,

   Yet still lost,

   Dazed and amazed,

   Felt crushed pancake flatten......>






Details | Rhyme | |

Melancholy Faun

Wooden paths I seek forlorn,
I miss the smell where I was born.
The coolest air of blossoms bloom 
no longer wait for me to loom.
No canopy to be my roof ~
now ashes scattered under hoof.
I had to leave I couldn't stay,
they took upon themselves that day:
destroying what I miss the most ~
My home,
 now just a charcoal ghost.


Details | Haiku | |

Among the Seashells

Forlorn, forgotten;
do tears still exist
at the bottom of the sea?


Details | Rhyme | |

Overcoming Depression



My days are long and my nights longer still
As I sit here watching this little pill
Will it remove the gloom I feel inside
Or will it just provide a chance to hide

When it wears off, am I back to square one
With an even greater gloom to take on
I have tried all the normal avenues
Yet I still continue feeling the blues

What is it that I really need to do
To rid this gloom and become myself true
Deep inside me, there's a fighting spirit
Saying to face this gloom and conquer it

Connecting with Nature provides an ease
Listening to the sound of a  gentle breeze
While it's passing through the surrounding trees
Serenading them with the rustling leaves

I shall draw my strength from the divine source
In whose awareness I do not feel lost
I know I shall overcome finally
And once again my spirit shall be free




We all love you, Linda!
You Shall Overcome!


12/7/2014


Details | Rhyme | |

The Gift

The tree outside the window was bare,
its branches black thrust through the air,
like a nightmare in daylight lingers,
its branches resembled evil fingers.

The sky behind was stony gray,
it looked like it might rain that day,
I briefly wondered why I'd woke,
sat up in bed and lit a smoke.

So quiet is it  by the lake!
My ears felt hollow, began to ache,
a city girl, I'm used to sound,
the ambient noise of a busy town.

What if I'd turned the TV on,
would the vacuum inside the room be gone?
The cat, I noted, was fast asleep,
a lump beneath the quilts and sheet.

I glanced again at the blank TV,
then looked once more at the skeletal tree,
it seemed to sigh as if forlorn,
just waiting for Spring to be reborn.

For a moment, I just sat and stared,
the sky so gray, the tree so bare,
stark silhouette of black on gray,
the tomb-like silence where I lay.

These turned my mind to darker things,
my boring job, the fatigue it brings,
scattered off-days wasted sleeping,
life-force through my fingers seeping.

Sleep all day and work all night,
wonder if there's an end in sight,
keep a brave face so they won't see
how this schedule's killing me.

Just then I saw a flash of red,
though depressed, I raised my head,
A cardinal sat and cocked his head,
the black, the gray, the brilliant red.

I see the beauty in the starkness,
a flash of hope among the darkness,
this perfect scene a gift to me,
the genius, its simplicity.

And as I felt my depression lift,
God granted me another gift.
He knew just how to ease my woes,
before my eyes, it began to snow.

It's snowed so rarely in my life,
each memory's sharper than a knife,
the cardinal flutters in the tree,
and shakes me from my reverie.

The magic of  life is quiet and subtle,
the bud of a rose, a mirror-like puddle,
the magic is there if you let yourself see,
like the snow swirling 'round the bird in the tree.


Details | Epigram | |

WHY BE A NAKED TREE

Why be a naked tree and endure winter's agony?
It should be forever warm and sunny...
to watch wild flowers grow by a spring!
Why be a naked tree and be unable to think?


Details | Sonnet | |

The Beauty Fades

The sky above me, beauteous and blue
The trees around, cheerful with tops of green
The rays of sol, a joyous yellow hue
With awe, I gaze at this fantastic scene

Although, no beauty can last endlessly
The bright colors dim into somber shades
Stiff brown leaves wither off decaying trees
And now, in the dark, the pulchritude fades

The sky above clouds into a grim grey
The trees bare their wicked branches like fiends
The rays of sol, no longer warm and gay
 With terror, I gaze at this dreadful scene

It is time to rest, I shall be set free
The beauty is back, may it forever be.


Details | Lyric | |

This is about you

When you have downfall on your mind chaos is all a mind can find, its time to change all the things you had held so deep inside, they cause rage, your trapped in while your caught up in the cage of life an easy life with out strife, no more pain or struggle inside a bubble and you want to make it burst, but first things first you know the times that come will be the worst, because its change you want, and you will taunt the ones who set the curse. They say if you want to change a little then its your choice, but if you want to change a lot they must first hear your voice, loud enough for all to hear, listen and all of the problems soon disappear, just know that the world can be a  bleak one and people dont always listen so you cannot only speak once, so when the end is near you can look back at the goodtimes throughout all the years think about all the times and cheer, and thank god you lived this long and your still here. Be remembered  only for  the words you spoke, for you do not want to be invisioned inside a cloud of smoke, watch as they listen when you start to feel the choke on the thoughts about your life,a bad life,  a black life, envoloped in fear you were hoping that the man would hear, and maybe take a listen, to diamonds in your mind as you watch them glisten. finally move to a position, and  open your ears and let your mind be clear, and hear the wisdom spoken from the person on the otherside of the mirror, society sobriety with out a clue just sit and ponder at the deepest thoughts that are revealed in you...


Details | Haiku | |

Like the Morning Glory at Noon

          The morning glory,
Like her heart, opens for love.
                    Twelve o clock- she gawn.


Details | Free verse | |

Beautiful Oblivion

Sit and watch the thin, blank dawn
that never quite sweeps you off your feet.
Wrestle with memories that don't want to be suppressed,
and repress the urge to canon-ball into the ocean. 
(sinking: sinking slowly, because you never learned how to swim.)

Listen to rainbows churning in oil-spill puddles,
and wait for the beautiful oblivion to take its toll.
Somewhere inside you know things will never be the same again,
but that's okay with you, sickening as it seems.
(you want to float away into seaweed forests and play fetch with the big, bad wolf.)

Dream of living a full, happy life
while you tear your world apart.
Sell your body to those dark, dank demons in your cerebrum,
whimpering and wondering deep into the night. 
(praying for a chance to show your worth while you still exist.)

Sink low beneath the foaming sea,
wring out your hands and paint your thighs with scarlet letters.
Let the wolves lap the salmonella from your fingertips
and wrap yourself in red - lay face down in the snow, don't breathe too deeply:
(someone dances in snowflakes nearby.)

Watch the thin, blank dusk
that never quite sweeps you off your feet.
Wish for brazen arms and a warm crook of the neck to rest in.
Hug yourself beneath the covers and silently cry; you know now...
(no one wants to comfort a girl who craves suffering.)

You will never be what anyone wants. 


Details | Free verse | |

Beyond the Distant Horizon

The open sea
Seems endless
In every direction for me

The last accompanying sail
Gone over the edge,
The tip of the mast
A sight I found a comfort
Is now a thing of the past

All alone on a world
With no end
Sailing alone
With a heart to mend

No ocean liner
Or luxury yacht for me
A simple boat
On this useless sea

If I make
Some distant shore
To sail once again
A desire I will have no more


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Lost

I can feel it in my nose,
I can feel it in my fingers,
I can feel it in my toes,
My certain end currently lingers.
I've lost my will to fight,
Bitter cold despite my blanket.
Maybe because the covers white,
Not sure how much longer i can take it.
Lost and forgotten, 
No idea were I lay.
A rock in place of cotton, 
Snow in place of hay.
I look to the Flurry
Contemplating its power.
My mind fills with fury,
On my final hour.
When I try to move all I do is cry,
For when lost in winter your only option is die.