WINTER ARC WARMTH

1) Reckoning the remorse in my ridicule, 

I hide a small notebook of scribbled verses in my pocket

That carries the testament of my travel exertion and strolling sadism 

Everything there is almost about despair , torment and affliction, 

I don't know how I carry so much fret within and didn't pass away

How I gently endure these in the chronicles of my patient rage? 

How I let my mind run over to the edges of dismay ? 

How I loved you and lost you, and didn't die anyway?

2)I always knew I was different when the coziest time of the year, winter gives birth to my most efficient self. Like I would sit under my blankets, feel the warmth of the fabric and read one book after another, get to sip my usual or more than usual cup of tea and continue reading my books, not sleeping but exhausting myself enough and enjoy doing it.

 In the hope to bear my despair under the sheets of productivity.

3) In the winter arc, I am bemoaning my love for myself, acknowledging myself and serving gentle patience to my heart and my health .

4) My love for winter is like the love of the God to his only child .