The Snow

The snow beats upon my face on a cold, lonely night.
The world left engulfed in the haze of those now forgot,
Those that tried and failed and even more who never sought,
For fear of rejection, or fear of heartbreak and sorrow,
False lives they lead, in their isolation they try and burrow,
Unknown to them the joys that another can bring,
Lives they could have lead, or loves that could have been.
Their fires long burnt out, their ashes blown to the sky,
For all to see, a lasting tribute to their miserable lives,
Condensing, spreading, consuming the world in the darkness of their despair,
Until our lands are now corrupted, left frozen, desolate and bare,
And so I feel the chill of their anguish in the absence of light,
While the snow beats upon my face on this cold, lonely night.