Cold. Dark. Winter

Perhaps the sights of truth
will only show to broken eyes?
Perhaps the weight of torment
wins a more rewarding prize?
Perhaps the damaged mind
will find if madness holds a gain?

Or maybe pain is simple...
...and we simply hurt in vain.

My soul erodes.
(One season hides...)
The Fall is cold. The leaves are dry.
The trees lament. The bloom has died.
The nights... they never silence.

My soul is pain.
(One season strays...)
The Spring is slain. The sky is grey.
The clouds, they cry in waves of rain.
The storms are so defiant.

My soul is hate.
(One season runs...)
The Summer breaks and slays the sun.
The heat has ceased. The freeze has won.
Coldness starts to enter...

My soul is weak. Four seasons rise.
One season peaks. Three seasons die.
The only season I see alive
is Cold. Dark. Winter.

Perhaps the lonley road
crafts a warrior within?
Perhaps the strike of loss
creates a love reborn again?
Perhaps the depths of anger
cause respect to be restored?

Or maybe pain is simple...
...and there's simply nothing more.

My soul is dark. Four seasons breed,
yet only one remains supreme
and there it paints a frozen scene
with me upon its center.

Perhaps endurance yields a gift
and through the hurt a worth exists?
Or maybe pain is simply this...
...a Cold. Dark. Winter.