This came from a writing prompt, it holds no indicators as to my present state of mind.

 

The cold wind blows.

That cold north wind, That wicked wind.
The damp that cuts you to the skin
You promised that you’d leave this pen
You swore you’d never see again
But summer’s gone, your trapped within…

And so it goes.

Summer jobs paid winter bills,
The binge that warmed you through the chills
That got you through last winter’s ills
All those Goddamned little pills
That kept you mind off cold grey hills

This life you choose.

This land ain’t what it aught to be.
You thought you’d find prosperity.
Now you find you live of charity
With happiness a rarity
In a land of bipolarity

And the cold wind blows.