Spring is really about Winter

I DONT TRUST THE SPRING

CANT DECIDE IF ITS HOT

OR ICE COLD

SUCH LIFE, SUCH FLOWERS.

RED EYES WIERD DREAMS

NEW BEGININGS

UNTOUCHED VALLEYS

OF DARKNESS 

HOLDING ON TO THE DECAY

OF WINTER WEEDS

TUCKED AWAY

UNDER A THIN LAYER

OF NEW SOIL

It is too early to tell if my seeds have cracked in the winter air.

Did I get so cold that the shell around my heart decided to cave

and let in the world again.