Counting Constructions

‚ÄčI’m shedding in numbers

Dying in slumbers

All people remember

Is what I did last November
I’m running around bushes

Watching as every season rushes

People sit on my heart and

Stab me like a pin cushion
I’m in love with destruction

Ruining self construction

I’m becoming an inconvenience to the devil

Because I’ve fought off more than he bit off


I prefer winter’s cold shoulders.

I want to believe that the summer is more comforting than the winter, but I’m not quite sure that it is.

The winter calms me as it freezes the water droplets on tree branches.

The winter relaxes me everytime I see the sky shedding little pieces of frozen art.

The winter speaks to me in volumes, when the summer just keeps denying me of my air.

The winter bares my demons lighter than the summer claims to show.

But here I am trying to list the things that summer benefits me besides it’s positive vibes.

It’s rays of sunshine lifts me up, but maybe I’d rather the winter allow me to cilmb admist it’s cold shoulders.

It’s light tear falls dulls even the sharpest parts of me, but maybe I’d rather the winter stab me in the back with it’s icicles of truth.

It’s way of heating me feels nice, but I’d rather the winter show me all it has in store for me as it’s angry storms rip apart the seams of my very being.