Seasons

A poem about living through mental illness/ in a depressed state

Crisp cold mornings come,

as the leaves drift and the dew appears upon the grass blade.

I sit and ponder, what is it 

that allows me to move forward?

A new start in such a frigid season,

only knowing it gets colder with time.

Comforted by light, mentally in shadows.

Always overthinking my purpose.

But what if it's just  to live?

Destined to thrive like tulips in Winter;

I bloom in every season.