At this time of the year,
Changes the way you look at everything,
Both far and near,
Like when the bath water engulfs you, too,
Or when you're feeling oppressed,
Like everyone you see is laughing at you,
Or when you've finally confessed.
There is no difference, the difference is great,
The chill makes you forget,
All the thoughts you had when you were warm,
And hadn't thought of survival, yet.
And it's alright,
You don't even have to be aware,
Of who you are, most people aren't anyway,
And, frankly, don't even care.
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