chrismas in a cold land

chrismas in a cold land

here it is always cold at this time of year
cold and alone lonely and empty
my self fills up as it does
for i am lonelyness

the fear that fills me
that which no one can save me from
that which i have been meant to either face
or flee

it is now and it is it

here is my me
i cannot run from it, for it is me
i am it
and we are bound for the tenebres on the high sea of human tears