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Winter Death

On this cold day
It feels like winter
Beneath my skin
Is a mindless splinter
Ripping at my heart
And tearing my soul

On this tepid day
It feels like winter
Beneath my heart
Is an excavating sinner
Digging for his hope
Finding nothing there

On this warm day
It feels like winter
Beneath my love
Is a selfish winner
Striving for the top
Killing for the top

On this winter day
It feels like hell
Nothing is real
And nothing is well
Nothing is wrong
And nothing is right
Depression becomes my death tonight.


all works on this page Copyright 2002 by Denman Scofield.



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scofield@dailyramblings.com