The air is cold tonight sitting in my dimly lit room by candlelight.
I still think of her the girl with the ebony hair,
As I sit there bewildered believing she’s still there.
Talking to the walls as though they’re answering back,
I just can’t seem to find myself tonight I believe I’m starting to crack.
I’ve lost who I am, or what I once was,
And it’s sad to think about only just because.
The little girl inside is dying overwhelmed by the pain of grief,
Praying for it all to end wishing it was brief.
It will eventually come to an end without any hinder,
As I satiate my need for winter.