Every Year's Darkest Beauty
Christmas lights are all in pain,
every year they are the same.
Glowing on my darkest days,
shining through me - there is space.
Snowman without any name,
standing hollow on it's grave.
Waiting for the sun to shine,
bring him back to peace, to fly.
Standing under the mistletoe,
I'm not empty - just alone.
My now is no different from the past,
but hopefully for the future it's the last.
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