As the leaves turn brown,
I turn empty.
While days grow short,
I grow sluggish.
Each dreary morn,
my eyes beg to close.
As Winter clasps
his hands around my neck,
Summer's breath
is forced from my lungs.
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About Me
- Sunny
- I like to sing, I like to laugh, I like to write, and I like to read. I am forgiven and for this I rejoice.
there is actually a psychological condition where you have a more depressed mood during the drearier seasons. forgot what it was called tho...
ReplyDeleteI know. No one believes that I have it.
ReplyDeleteBut I seriously do.
We learned about it in Psych, I remember