Derived Poetry

Winter Stupor

I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.

Before it even started, I wanted it to be done.

Picture everything completely white.

I’ve never seen anything so bright.

It looks beautiful when diamonds fall from the sky,

But unless you’re indoors, that beauty cuts into you like knives.

Walking through it, you feel weighed down with bricks.

Weather reporters call it a “wintery mix.”

Your nose will either be stopped-up or leaky.

It’s guaranteed, and it’s kind of freaky.

The cold also does something to your fingers.

It instantly chills, and the bitterness lingers.

There’s a strange beauty behind the winter season.

But I would prefer if the temperatures stayed within reason.

Being this cold puts me in a stupor.

It definitely makes me look forward to the future.