I live in a place filled with a dark snow.
The snow is so black that the blackness glows.
Blackness surrounds so much I feel it's touch.
Shadows lurk, following my lifeless steps.
Crows attend me as darkness gets darker.
They tell their troubles and tell their torments.
We talk of our dark place that no one knows.
We talk of it alone amongst the snow.
We search for a world away from our home.
We search in our world of only dark lurks.
Dark touches me cold, conceiving only it.
Its hard to understand the meaning of living
when you live in a life that is past its killing.
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