I had to erase the old world when I found a new word. I was left cold like a child seeking shelter in the face of the storm, but the rain became a muse when I understood the seasons.

How do I hold back the tears when every battle is internal? I need a hand to hold thoughts that have become as deep as the Mariana trench, I need help to its shores. Words have become cryptic as the cold days and lonely like the darkest of nights.

The pain never seems to end! But how could it end when these feelings have formed thoughts and how do I stop when these thoughts have formed words? There's so much to live for and I hope these words give you a reason to live beyond the seasons.
© Ddawnofpoetry7