Tears turn to ice,
Affection turns to vice,
Mind clutter,
Heart Stutter,
It was not quite love,
Now it is not quite hate,
Break the wing of a dove,
To see my soul's fate.

Nobody seems to love me,
Other than my family,
What joys can such future hold?
What pitiful stories will unfold?
A merciless grip of desolation conquers the empty heart,
Doubts and fears and bloody tears ensnare any will to start,

A fresh new Spring in growing sings,
Yet still Winter's frost devours such things,
And still I am left alone,
But I am not alone,
Yet again comes the snow.