The Reason

Doesn't it make you want to scream at times,

At times like these?

You can feel the icy touch of the wind on your lips,

And hear the wind rush through the trees.

Mistaken, the cold numbs you,

Rather than waking your zombie-like state,

And your breath turns to crystal droplets as you patiently wait.

Anticipate - for this moment could be the one he sees,

That he's not just your buddie,

He's the reason that you breathe.

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