Denial

All of my memories of fear

Insinuating the bird black

And all at once it all came back

Allocated towards the places my courage lacked

Insinuating and imploring to remove the hidden fact

A bird black whispered in my ear

Slowly, with gentle hand I brushed my shoulder,

Only to find that there lay a ghost bird black even colder

      Than my fingers;

Why? Shall be my fingers cold as ice,

When I hadn't played the dice

      Upon my life, nor upon my soul,

      And yet it grew even colder;

The winter storm upon my back covered the black upon my shoulder,

Replaced with white delicate sculptures ruined upon contact;

Why? Does nature cringe at my touch,

      And why does it not matter to any but me this fact?

Am I alone in this white storm in broad daylight and clear skies,

And why? Does not the sun shine upon me,

      Being covered by ruined artwork;

Am I not but a ruin upon everything and everywhere I go?

Why does not the deer or the rabbit invite me inside to warm up?

So cold am I when alone;

So lonely am I, for those who come near be always drown under the white;

So sad am I, for I am always alone;

And so when the black bird whispered in my ear,

A fear of loneliness did I see clear

Brought back from the depths of despair

And added on to it a bigger storm;

For only now did I see clear, I was to be forever alone;

Nevermore the better, I found myself a sweater

Along with some gloves, a hat, and a few mufflers;

I am alone yet, still, but occasionally

Another bird shall come and perch upon my shoulder

And whisper its knowledge on the memories of my fears,

And I, knowing the fact,

Shall do nothing more, but simply brush it back.