December Rain
I always treasured winter, a world of fragile things.
But now I must remember that I, myself, am a fragile being,
that not all things frail are loving, offer solace from the pain,
that peace is never lasting, and that nothing is as cold as December rain.
Crimson is the love, and crimson is the lie.
Crimson is the blood that streaks the floor, that streaks the sky.
Crimson are the wounds of the soul. Crimson is the stain.
Crimson are the tears that mixed and froze with crimson December rain.
I always hoped for solace, a respite from the pain,
but now that I have fallen, I know that solace cannot be gained,
that I have no hope of healing, of washing away the blood,
that life is no longer living and I’d give up breathing if only I could.
Broken is my heart, and broken is my hate.
Broken is the help that came to save, that came too late.
Broken are the joys of hope. Broken is my mind.
Broken are the dreams whose shards cut my soul and bleed me from inside.
I cannot wait for saviors I know I don’t deserve,
but there’s nothing more I hope for after all the pain I’ve seen occur.
And after all the hurt I’ve known, after all the tears that came,
the harshest lesson I’ve learned remains. Nothing is as cold as December rain.
http://likenightrain.deviantart.com/art/December-Rain-25500984
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